


Checkmate in Red

by taishige



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, TOKIO
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Horror, My response to TOKIO in a haunted house, Slasher, Spiteful Spooks, descent into insanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taishige/pseuds/taishige
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage." - Ray Bradbury</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checkmate in Red

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a random little idea one day to write something as scary as I could in one night--obviously it got wildly out of hand, which isn't surprising, and it morphed into this beast. So I guess it's kind of like a 2-year anniversary to my first horror fic way back when--it was even written the same way, lol. During the last two weeks of school when I should be doing other things and randomly decided to write something scary, before getting way too long.
> 
> So yes, horror, and all that implies--probably not for the faint of heart as it gets kind of grisly at the end, but if you want something scary, I hope it lives up to your expectations? I scared the shit out of myself two of the nights I worked on it lol.

It was their assistant director that initially suggested it. A few months ago, actually, but then it had gotten lost in a wave of new drama promotion and Matsuoka's stageplay before rearing its ugly head once again during a staff meeting the second Tuesday in August.

"A great idea!"

Their manager had said. And so the plans were started upon with great flourish.

_Halloween DASH Special - a two-hour fall event!_

At least that was how the TV guide had printed it within the carefully lined station brackets on the cheap newsprint between its covers.

October 31st. It just happened to fall on a Sunday that year.

Joshima wasn't exactly looking forward to it - he'd never prided himself on being the most courageous of fellows, and he didn't doubt the staff would pull out every stop to get the five of them screaming and pissing their pants from fright.

_A Halloween spook-tacular! Watch TOKIO spend the night in the most haunted mansion in Japan! The frights and chills are real!_

The only thing "real" about it would be the way he was liable to curl up into the fetal position on the floor and beg them to stop, but that's all the audiences would want to see anyway. He was the comic relief, after all.

When they arrived on-site for the filming, miserable clouds hanging low in the sky and a chilly autumn breeze tugging at their jackets, the jokes and chatter from the van ride ceased and all five of them simply stared at the downtrodden house in front of them. Paint peeling off the sides, rotten boards crumbling and splintered, shutters fluttering back and forth. From some ways off, a wind chime scaled up its notes, the normally cheery sound now hollow and empty.

Taichi clapped his hands together, jaw tight. "It's just one night, eh? How bad could it be?"

The dust flew up in the air as they slumped their bags and sleeping bags in the middle of the first-floor living room, a single light-bulb above them illuminating their environs. Antique, long-forgotten furniture surrounded them - a dirty blue sofa, a television with its screen cracked, a coffee table with a fat candle burnt clear down to the wick. Against the walls stood bookshelves, the colors of their books dulled by layers of dust.

"This seems... homey." Tatsuya instinctively wiped his arms.

"Could be worse. At least we're not out in the Russian mountains." Taichi was already meandering the perimeter of the room. "Ah, I found one of the cameras."

The staff had been in the previous day to install cameras in every room of the house - two in some - to ensure every frightening act was caught for the audience's pleasure. Taichi tapped the lens with his finger, then pretended to eat it.

Joshima wrapped his arms around his chest. "So we're stuck here until 10 AM tomorrow, huh? I don't suppose the AD would like if it I just zipped myself into my sleeping bag and stayed there the whole night."

Matsuoka wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in with a friendly pat. "At least make it exciting for the kids at home, Leader."

Nagase plopped himself down on the sofa with a huge billow of dust, then began bouncing up and down, each bounce sending up another wave of miniscule particles. Tatsuya began coughing, waving the dirty breeze out of his face.

"I take it this place hasn't seen company for a while."

"It's the most haunted mansion in _Japan_ , Gussan. People don't just come and go as they please!"

Joshima plugged his nose at the musty smell the sofa had produced. "Yeah, only idol bands..."

"I don't know why you guys are complaining so much! This'll be great!" Nagase waved his arms out in a manner far too jubilant for their surroundings.

"Yeah, we'll be able to see if Leader's bladder really is losing strength as he ages." Matsuoka punched Joshima's shoulder, getting a few snickers from the other guys as well.

"I'm gonna go explore!" Taichi raised his hand as if he was in gradeschool before shooting off past Matsuoka into the hallway. Tatsuya was quick to follow, and soon their clonking footsteps could be heard getting further away.

"I suppose we should follow..." Joshima ran a hand through his hair. "At least get used to our surroundings before the inevitable happens."

"Yeah, you fainting to the ground." Nagase laughed and slapped him on the back before jogging after the other two, Joshima unable to so much as raise a fist in protest. When he looked to Matsuoka for sympathy, the other man simply shrugged with a grin and walked away.

"Goddammit..." Joshima let out a sigh and reluctantly walked after them. This was going to be a long night.

\-------

The mansion seemed bigger on the inside than it had on the out - by no means had it seemed a small two-bedroomer, but it certainly hadn't looked like the three-floor mess of hallways and rooms they maneuvered their ways through now. The first floor contained the living room they'd parked their things in, along with a kitchen, dining room, and bathroom. Going up the stairs rewarded you with three bedrooms, another bathroom, and a foul-smelling closet. There was yet another staircase leading upwards to a dark, third-floor door, but as the five of them stood on the landing and stared up, their earlier courage disappeared and they resolved offhandedly that there was no reason for them to check it out.

By the time they returned to the living room, it was growing dark outside, so they unrolled their sleeping bags to use as places to sit and unpacked their boxed lunches for an indoor-camp dinner.

"So why exactly is this place supposed to be haunted?" Tatsuya was chugging his carton of milk tea.

"Somebody probably died here. Isn't that usually what these legends are?" Matsuoka pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Somebody died and now their ghost is haunting the premises." He angled his hands in front of his chest in imitation of said ghosts.

"Probably." Taichi was crunching on a pretz. "Though hell, it could simply be made up. If anything _does_ happen, it'll be the staff trying to get good reactions out of us for the broadcast."

Tatsuya popped Taichi on the nose. "You shouldn't say that - they're filming us! Now they have to edit that out."

This brought a laugh from Joshima, quietly munching on his salmon rice ball.

Nagase curled his fingers in front of his face. "They'll probably make like, doors open all by themselves or thumping noises on the ceiling." He attempted to imitate the noises with his feet before letting out a cackle.

"Stop iiiiit...!" Taichi threw his empty box at the other man's head. "I'm already getting anxious now that the sun's down."

"Yeah, there aren't a whole lot of light sources in here..." Matsuoka pointed up at their single light-bulb. "Certainly adds to the creepy feeling."

"Indeed." They all instinctively glanced up at the light, hanging innocently down from the ceiling.

It was silent for a moment.

Then Tatsuya burped, bringing out snickers and complaints from the other four as they went back to their food.

Once they were finished, they quickly found that there wasn't much to do. Taichi had brought a pack of cards, so they played for a while, huddled around atop their sleeping bags. When they finally grew bored of that, they started perusing the books on the bookshelves. Matsuoka blew the dust from his in Joshima's face, which prompted Nagase and Taichi to do the same thing after laughing at Joshima's annoyed expression. They kept doing it until Joshima began coughing so hard his eyes watered.

After growing bored of _that_ , they couldn't think of anything else to do, and it had grown rather late anyway, so Tatsuya suggested they huddle down in their sleeping bags and try to get some rest before the staff would inevitably start playing tricks on them. His suggestion was met with mutual agreement.

Looking like little worms, they wrapped themselves up in their different-colored bags, making a miniature circle in the middle of the living room.

"Do you think they're really gonna do something?" Joshima's voice came out small from within his nylon cave.

Tatsuya let his hand raise up flippantly from his spot two people over. "Well, if they don't, this'll be a pretty boring Halloween special."

Matsuoka snickered. "Yeah, watch TOKIO play cards and sleep. I'm sure it'll go over great."

"I'd watch it!" Taichi's head was buried in the folds of his sleeping bag.

"That's just 'cuz you like watching yourself on TV." Nagase bonked the other's head through the cloth, the resulting yelp making him smile.

It quieted down again.

Matsuoka pursed his lips. "...do you think we should actually fall asleep though?"

"We might as well - don't know how much we'll get later. Besides, they probably won't even start anything until it looks like we're asleep." Tatsuya's sleeping bag gave a rustle as he rolled over.

"...you make a good point." Matsuoka pulled his glasses off and placed them towards the middle of the circle so they wouldn't get smashed.

Joshima stared up at the lightbulb above their heads, dangling like a miniature sun. The longer he stared at it, the fuzzier his vision became, until he finally blinked, eyes refocusing themselves and the ceiling coming back into view. It was quiet around him - he heard a rustle to his right as Taichi turned over in his sleeping bag, and a little sigh from what sounded like Tatsuya's direction, but it seemed the conversation was over for now.

He let out a sigh of his own and turned over in his cocoon, curling the fabric beneath his chin. There were tiny butterflies in his stomach, heart beating just a bit faster than normal, and for a few minutes he didn't think he'd be able to fall asleep at all, but then he heard Matsuoka's breathing from the sleeping bag over, soft and reassuring, and before he knew it, his eyes were closed.

\-----

He wasn't sure why he awoke next. Quite warm and snug in the folds of his sleeping bag, he opened his eyes, not even remembering for a second where he was and what he was doing. His first thought was that his bed had suddenly grown quite a bit more firm, but a few moments later his brain kicked in to remind him he was currently on shoot in a run-down house in Tomakomai, Hokkaido.

Blinking his eyes, he turned his head away from the fabric of his bag in an attempt to see. When sight didn't return to him, he grew confused, before realizing that the light had turned off, blanketing the entire room in darkness. This realization brought his heart to a quickened pace in his chest, thump-thumping in his ears as he strained his eyes against the blackness.

Telling himself it was no doubt the staff who had turned off the light did surprisingly little good to calm himself down, his breath shaky between his lips. Keening his ears, he heard the familiar sound of his bandmates sleeping nearby, which brought a little comfort, but didn't eliminate the nagging anxiety growing in his belly.

He closed his eyes. Let out a calm, slow breath. Opened them again.

He was on a shoot. With his bandmates. The staff were trying to scare them. Everything was fine and under control.

As he felt his breathing relax, he settled back down into his sleeping bag. He wanted to go back to sleep, for all of this to be over, even though he knew that wasn't going to happen. He kept expecting someone dressed in a monster costume to come screaming into the room or something to that effect.

_thump thump_

It was so quiet, he barely heard it at first, only in the back of his mind, some far-off sound that didn't relate to him. He was too busy trying to will himself back to sleep, deep in the confines of his sleeping bag.

_thump thump... thump_

It tingled in the back of his neck, and his eyes shot open. That had definitely come from above them. The second floor. He had no idea what it was, faint little thumps as though someone was removing things from a shelf, stacking them in a pile.

_thump_

And then a sharper clang, right on the wood of the floor above them, before the sound of something rolling across the flooring.

It sent a chill all the way up Joshima's spine, reaching the base of his neck and forcing a faint gasp from his throat.

Go away.

Go away, please.

He held his breath, ears keen and listening for the slightest of noises. The sounds upstairs stopped, everything deathly still. He could still hear the faint breaths of his bandmates around him, undisturbed, peacefully asleep.

And then.

_thump thump... thump_

He curled tighter in his sleeping bag, arms around himself in a little ball.

There was a rustle near him, the sound of cloth shifting. He bit his lip and glanced back into the darkness, unable to make out anything more than a few shadowy blobs. There was nothing more for a few moments, then another rustle and a tiny creak as someone stood up.

Joshima's eyes opened wider as he strained to see, heart beating in his ears. He heard the figure step lightly around whoever was lying next to him before moving away from the group entirely. Biting his lip, Joshima willed his breathing to calm down, then crawled out himself, a chill creeping through the thin fabric of his pajama pants as he scuttled after the figure.

"Hey..." It barely escaped his lips, not wanting to wake the others - the reason he told himself. Not wanting whatever was upstairs to hear - the reason hidden in the pit of his stomach.

The shadowy blob that was one of his bandmates stopped at his voice, and Joshima walked towards him, unable to judge the distance in the lack of light and promptly bumping against his shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa, hey..." There was an arm around his waist, both orienting him and calming him down.

He instinctively let himself press against the other's side, bare feet cold against the wood floor. "...Tatsuya?"

"Shige?"

He nodded, then realized the other man probably couldn't see it. "Yeah, it's me. What are you doing?"

"Gonna go investigate that sound upstairs." Tatsuya's voice was strangely hollow in the dark hallway.

"You heard it too?"

"Yeah, woke me up."

Joshima let his arm curl around Tatsuya's, the closer he got, the safer he felt.

"...do you know who turned the light off?"

There was slight movement from the other's head, and he assumed Tatsuya had shaken it back and forth. "Was dark when I woke up."

"Me too..." His fingers curled into the cloth of Tatsuya's sleeve. "I don't wanna go though."

Tatsuya chuckled under his breath. "Well, you don't have to. Go get back in your sleeping bag. I just figured they were trying to get us to come out... they'll probably have something happen down here eventually anyway."

Joshima pursed his lips together, head swiveling back towards the dark circle where their other bandmates continued to sleep. Suddenly being alone in his sleeping bag seemed equally as unappealing.

"...I don't wanna leave you though. Don't go." He pushed his face into the other's shoulder.

Tatsuya just chuckled again. "You're such a scaredy-cat, you dork. None of this is real."

"I-I know that..."

It was silent for a moment, then the thump from earlier returned, a bit louder now that they were out in the hallway.

"Well, I'm going." Tatsuya began to move forward, pulling his arm away, and Joshima reached out to grab his wrist, following hesitantly behind.

The two made their way wordlessly to the steps, the slightest bit of light coming in from the moon, drifting in through the window high above their heads in the entryway. Joshima gripped the other's wrist tighter, tip-toeing along behind him.

"Shige, you're gonna cut off the circulation in my arm!" Tatsuya voice came out in a hiss as he shook said appendage to free it from the other's grip.

Joshima murmured an apology, loosening his fingers and letting them slide downwards to grip Tatsuya's hand instead.

They started up the stairs, creak after creak, toes pressed against the dusty floorboards.

The landing was shrouded in darkness ahead of them, moonlight guiding their way up the steps but stopping just short of the second-floor hallway. Joshima's heart continued to thud in his ears, stomach twisting back and forth, but he tried to keep his breathing calm and steady, reassuring himself through Tatsuya's presence in front of him.

They made it to the landing, Tatsuya's form disappearing under a shroud of darkness as he pulled Joshima off towards the right hallway, where the rooms above the living room were located.

"...it sounded like it came from this way."

Joshima's grip on Tatsuya's hand tightened with each step, breath barely even working out of his lungs. The darkness was all around him, closing in, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

Tatsuya's free hand drew up to press against the first door they came to, already slightly ajar and pushing in easily at Tatsuya's touch.

"T-...Tatsuya..."

He didn't even look back. "What?"

"Let's... go back..."

"We'll just check it out." Tatsuya pushed it the rest of the way, swinging wide to reveal empty darkness. Hesitating a moment, he tugged on Joshima's hand and the two of them stepped inside the room, so black that Joshima couldn't even see his hand in front of his face.

"I can't see anything."

"Most of the windows up here were boarded up... I wonder if I can try to wrench a board loose."

Further into the room, each step careful, hesitant, toes searching out a safe bit of floorboard to support their weight. Joshima was practically pressed against Tatsuya's back, the feel of his shirt providing the only comfort in the dark abyss surrounding them.

With Tatsuya's free hand reaching out in front, they made it to the far wall, and from there it didn't take long to find the window, thick, heavy boards nailed across its frame with only the tiniest slivers of moonlight filtering through. He took his other hand back from Joshima so he could attempt to pull the boards away, the sound of his fingers scraping the surface harsh and grating in the otherwise silent room.

"...no good. They're too tight."

Joshima pressed closer to Tatsuya's side as he gazed around the room, eyes having adjusted enough to the total darkness that he could make out the faintest shapes - a table off in one corner, a chair in the other - or at least he assumed.

"I don't hear that noise anymore..."

Tatsuya stopped in his struggles with the window, listening.

"...you're right."

"Tatsuya, let's go back."

"Are you really that sca--"

There was a slam as the door swung shut.

Joshima cried out in surprise, flinging towards Tatsuya with his arms clutching at his shirt. Even Tatsuya himself was silent, stiff as a board, one hand finding Joshima's back.

"It's okay, Shige, they're just trying to scare us..."

Joshima's breaths were short and quick. He didn't let go.

Tatsuya's eyes were narrowed as he searched through the darkness, trying to pick out anything, a shape, a movement.

Nothing.

The same, motionless shapes littering the room. The same deathly silence surrounding them. The same darkened shadow along the wall opposite them.

Until the shadow moved.

Tatsuya barely had time to gasp before the shadow was to them. It hit him like a wall, pushed back into the rough window boards behind them, his breath getting knocked from his stomach.

Joshima was the one to scream, getting knocked away with such force he stumbled to the floor.

"The-... the hell, man, lighten up--" Tatsuya's confused plea was cut short as he got slammed to the floor, tumbling over himself with a heavy thud.

Breath ragged, the two of them gazed up at the shadow as it turned to face them.

This wasn't right.

_This wasn't right._

"Shige..." Tatsuya's voice had lost his earlier confidence, now warbling in his throat. "Shige, run."

The words were like a trigger, releasing the ice that was locking up his muscles. He scrambled to his feet, dashing back towards the door, groping out through the darkness.

He couldn't find it.

There were thuds behind him, heavy footsteps. His heart was pounding in his ears as his hands searched the wall in front of him, desperately feeling for the door.

Fingers finding the frame, his hands flew to the handle just as he felt a body ram into him from behind. Instinctively letting off a yelp, he tried to push back, only to have the arms reach around him and grab at the same doorknob his fingers were fumbling with.

"Shige, open the _door_ , _go!_ " Tatsuya's voice was right in his ear, and then the door was flung open, footsteps thundering behind them as Tatsuya pushed him out.

He couldn't see anything.

His hands flailed around him, hitting nothing, guiding him nowhere.

Then Tatsuya's hand found his and he was being pulled along, jerked along, the other's breath stilted and choked in front of him. They dashed forward across the landing, to the other side, pitch-black entrances opening to cave-like rooms.

Joshima couldn't tell if the heavy thumps in his ears were his own heart or the footsteps of the shadow behind them.

Tatsuya pulled him into the next room over, letting him go to fly forward, stumbling over his feet and falling with a crash to the floor. There was a slam - Tatsuya had shut the door behind them, and then more footsteps, pounding, right next to him as hands found his clothes, tugging at him, yanking him back to his feet and urging him along, towards the back.

"Tatsuya, I--"

"Just _go_."

They reached the wall, a long countertop stretching across the length of it. Tatsuya's hands searched it, sliding across, then lower as he knelt down, fingertips making out small brass handles in the woodwork.

"These are cupboards. Get inside."

" _What?!_ " Joshima's voice was a squawk as it tore from his throat.

But Tatsuya paid him no heed, yanking him down so fast he almost hit his head on the counter. Opening the drawer with one hand, he ushered him inside with the other, squeezing him into the small space as a musty smell filled his nostrils.

There were clangs about him as his body ran into bottles, knocking them against each other, some of them tipping over completely. It smelled like alcohol and dust and mold.

He could barely breathe. Back hunched over and arms holding his knees, Tatsuya's hand ran through his hair reassuringly.

"Stay there."

" _Tatsuya--_ "

The drawer clunked shut.

His breathing continued to come in short, tiny spurts, loud in his head, deafening in the tiny confines of the cupboard. It was hot, stifling, the musty air, stagnant now for how many years, choking his lungs.

He heard the door to the room open. Quietly. Almost calmly. Haunting in his mind.

Tatsuya stood up just outside the cupboard, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight.

Silence.

"The... the hell is wrong with you, man?" Tatsuya's voice barked into the darkness, though laced with a shaky warble.

No reply came to his question, however. Only a long, drawn-out creak as the door closed again, clicking shut, the sound drawing a chill up Joshima's spine.

Nothing.

Not another sound.

His breath caught in his throat, the musty smell surrounding him making him dizzy, nauseous, head angled down against the ceiling at an angle which grew more painful by the second. He brought a hand to his mouth.

"...you're not with the staff, are you?"

Joshima couldn't tell what happened next. All of a sudden there was a cacophony of thuds, thumps, footsteps. Tatsuya let out a surprised grunt, then the entire counter shook around Joshima as something slammed against it, the vibrations shaking his skull.

He tried to swallow. He tried to breathe. His eyes shook in their sockets as Tatsuya groaned just outside the cupboard door.

Footsteps.

But the struggle was over now.

A wet, squish echoed in his ears before Tatsuya's voice cried out in agony. Thick and sloppy, something hit the ground. Joshima's eyes were frozen, his body rigid, Tatsuya's cry rising in pitch, sharp against his ears, piercing his skull.

His lips trembled.

"Tatsu... ya..."

But he couldn't move.

Another gush, a disgusting, slimy sound, and Tatsuya screamed out again.

"Tatsuya..."

His eyes were hot, tears filling up the corners, leaking down his cheeks, the world a dark blur around him.

Tatsuya was sobbing now, horrible grating gasps from his throat, straining from his lungs.

Joshima didn't move.

His entire body shook, droplets of tears dancing on his eyelashes.

There was a slump, a rustle of fabric, a body sliding to the floor. Tatsuya was right outside the cupboard door, half-silent groans reverberating into Joshima's claustrophobic cage.

Then silence again. Silence surrounding him, suffocating him, his heart pounding in his chest and threatening to burst through his skin.

_Don't open the door._

Sweat dripped down his forehead to join the tears on his cheeks, trembling, balanced on the tip of his nose before dripping onto his shirt.

_Don't open the door._

He couldn't hear anything over the silence.

His head was pulsing.

Then footsteps tore into his thoughts, thundering beneath him. Away, away, away, softer as they went. The far door opened with the same eerie creak from earlier, and when it shut the footsteps disappeared entirely.

Gone.

It was gone.

Joshima couldn't even see anymore through the moisture in his eyes, hands gripping the sides of his head that he hadn't even realized were there. He wrenched them away, a reflexive gasp squeezed from his throat. His legs felt like they were made of cement, locked in place, tingling up and down his calves.

"Tatsu... ya..." His lips formed the words, but nothing came out.

There was another groan from outside the cupboard. Soft, barely audible.

\--but it triggered Joshima's muscles. His hand was to the cupboard door, pushing it open before his brain had even registered he could move. He crawled out, into the cool air, wonderfully fresh, wonderfully inviting, lungs inhaling with a shudder as his fingers grappled at the wood floor and pulled him towards the sound of Tatsuya's breathing.

"Tatsuya..." It came out this time, barely, his vocal chords tight and scratchy and only just able to form the inquiry. His hands found fabric, warm, then searching across it, wrapping themselves around Tatsuya's torso in jilted, ragged movements. "Tatsuya, are you alright...?"

Tatsuya was shaking beneath him, noiseless sobs that shook his body, breaths pushed from his mouth in short spurts.

"Tatsuya..." Joshima was pressed against him, face in Tatsuya's chest, fingers wrapped in the fabric of his shirt. He moved them upwards, finding his arms, moving up to his shoulders. When they reached his neck, thumbs sliding up to hold his cheeks, they came back wet, hot, and he bit back the air in his throat.

The warm liquid ran down over his hands as his fingers trembled, tracing further up Tatsuya's cheeks.

"...Shige..." Tatsuya's voice was tight, strained, holding back a sob. "...Shige, I can't see..."

Joshima felt hot tears form in his eyes, a blink sending them over the edge to wet his cheeks again.

Tatsuya's eyes were gone.

His thumbs found the soaked edges of his sockets, nearly sinking down into them before he yanked them back with a whimper.

"Tatsuya..." Joshima broke down, pressing his face back into the other's shirt as his shoulders shook with each breath. His bloody hands clenched into the fabric, holding him close, holding him tight.

The darkness settled over the top of them.

Omniscient.

It couldn't have been more than five minutes later that soft footsteps sounded in the hallway outside.

Joshima's spine tingled, hands pushing himself up from Tatsuya's motionless form with a jerk, hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

He shook his head, fresh burst of tears leaking down his cheeks.

"No, no, no, no, no..."

Closer.

His fingers curled painfully in Tatsuya's shirt.

"Please, no..."

Then the door opened with a horrifying creak, Joshima's heart flying up into his throat as a blinding beam of light shot into the room to land on his face.

"Leader, what the fuck is going on?"

Joshima almost cried out in joy, the familiar voice reaching his ears. He squinted back against the flashlight beam, arms outstretched towards the door and his bloodied hands in sharp contrast in front of him.

"Taichi, Taichi..."

A flutter of footsteps. Joshima couldn't see anything with the light bobbing in his eyes, but he could sense them, Matsuoka's worried voice rising up an octave as he let out a yelp.

"H-help... please, he... Tatsuya, he..."

The light was finally removed from its direct beam on his face, now focused on Tatsuya and revealing the state of his face for the first time, smeared with thick, heavy blood, all up and down his cheeks, across his neck, hand-shaped prints across the front and sides of his shirt. Two grisly holes stood in place of his eyes, half-congealed blood around their rims in dark globules.

"What the _fuck_?!" Nagase this time.

Matsuoka and Nagase were to Tatsuya in an instant, picking up his shoulders, hands to his face. Taichi knelt down beside him, pointing the flashlight towards the patch of wall just above them to provide light but not blind.

"Holy fuck, shit." Matsuoka's eyes were wide, mouth a shaky circle.

"What the hell _happened_?" Taichi's muscles were rigid as Joshima's face found his shoulder, leaving salty wet stains on his shirt-sleeve.

"I don't-... I don't know, it just... everything just, we were there and then, then this thing... and he, he put me in the cupboard, but..."

Nagase's hands were turning Tatsuya's chin back and forth, Tatsuya himself whimpering at the contact as his mouth moved wordlessly.

"Slow down, slow down..." Taichi turned back to Joshima, palm to the top of Joshima's head so he could push him away and hear more clearly. "Who the flying _fuck_ did this?"

Joshima shook his head dolefully. "I don't... know. I don't know. It was, it was just _there_ , it was so dark, I-... I couldn't see anything..."

"A person?" Matsuoka's face angled back towards him.

"I, I guess... yeah, I mean..."

"There's someone else in the house?" Nagase had gotten Tatsuya propped back up against the wall.

Joshima nodded silently, hand coming up to wipe at the tears on his cheeks and leaving a bloody streak behind.

"Fuck..." Taichi was gnawing on his bottom lip, eyes boring holes into Tatsuya's pant leg. "We need to get out of here is what we need to do - if only to get Gussan to a hospital, but also 'cuz we have no idea who this person is and if they're gonna come for the rest of us."

Joshima hugged his knees as another whimper shook his throat. Matsuoka had pulled off his sweatshirt and was currently at work ripping the sleeve off. When the threads finally snapped, he wrapped it gingerly around Tatsuya's head, covering the bloody holes where his eyes used to be, then tied it into a tight knot in the back. Nagase was rubbing Tatsuya's shoulder reassuringly as he let out a whine.

"But how are we gonna get him out?" Nagase grimaced as he looked back to Taichi, who cursed under his breath.

"...someone'll need to go get help. Bring someone in here. The staff who brought us are all holed up in that little motel just inside town, right?"

Matsuoka nodded, wiping his hands off on his pajama pants. "I'll go."

"Alright, who else?" Taichi's head swept around the group, eyes landing back on Joshima. "Leader?"

"M-me?" Joshima wiped at the snot under his nose.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you don't wanna stay in here any longer, so you go with Mabo. That'll leave Nagase and I to watch over Gussan and make sure nothing else happens."

There was a murmur of approval, and Joshima ducked his head with a little nod. "...alright."

"You only need to get down to the front door - it's not far. But be careful, we don't know where this bastard is." Taichi bounced the flashlight up and down in his hand. "You want the flashlight?"

Matsuoka rubbed his hands together. "We'll probably be better off without it - we'll draw less attention." Getting to his feet, he dusted his pants off and walked over to where Joshima was still huddled on the floor. "Come on, Leader."

Joshima took the hand offered him, pulling himself up with a little wobble.

Matsuoka gave him a pathetic smile, eyes running up and down his face. "You look awful." One of his thumbs rubbed at his cheek in an effort to wash away the streaks of blood and dirt.

Joshima simply grimaced and looked down in response.

"Be careful, guys, ok?" Taichi's face looked grim as he gazed up at them. From the other side of Tatsuya, Nagase was wringing his hands together, strangely silent.

Matsuoka nodded in response, then beckoned Joshima after him as he started for the door.

The hallway outside was pitch black, not even the walls to its either side visible, an empty vacuum waiting to suck them inside.

Joshima instinctively wrapped a hand around Matsuoka's wrist as the other man stepped through the barrier, floorboards cold and rough beneath their feet and the earlier silence wrapping around them.

Shutting the door, the thin glow of the flashlight disappeared entirely, leaving them in complete darkness. Joshima could hear Matsuoka's breathing next to him, pressing closer as his own heart formed a quickened rhythm in his chest.

"We just need to get to the stairs... the front door's in the room over from the landing."

Matsuoka's voice was hissed, barely audible, but Joshima nodded his head in response anyway. He squeezed his wrist to relay that he'd understood.

They stepped forward, Matsuoka first, and Joshima moving behind to catch up with each step, staying close to Matsuoka's side, his presence the only thing keeping him from breaking down in the oppressive darkness all around him. Quiet. Everything was so quiet - only the slightest noise of their bare feet tracing the floorboards with each step reaching his ears.

There was a creak as Matsuoka took another step, and Joshima winced, a drop of sweat leaking down from his head. They both stopped for a moment, motionless.

Silence.

A horrible echoing silence.

Joshima's heart was beating against his chest, thumping, throbbing in his ears.

It was so cold.

A shiver traveled up from the base of his spine.

Matsuoka began moving again, tiny step after tiny step in the pitch-black corridor.

Joshima followed. Unable to breathe. His lungs seemed caught, strained, not functioning correctly as his eyes swiveled back and forth in the darkness, every glance sending a spasm of panic through the back of his head as he imagined the shadow from earlier staring at them from within the black expanse.

Further they walked. It was slow, but not _that_ slow. Why hadn't they reached the stairs yet?

A bead of sweat dribbled from Joshima's forehead, into the corner of his eye, building up before tracing down to the tip of his nose. The breath he hadn't even realized was his own shook from between his lips, making his chest tremble.

Another step.

Another step.

He willed his feet to move forward even while his body wanted to curl into a ball as the darkness grew thicker around him. His hand was clenched so tightly in Matsuoka's it was shaking, sweat forming between the skin to tickle at his palm.

He couldn't hear anymore. His head was pulsing with each beat of his heart, loud and quick and thundering just beneath his eyes.

Why weren't they at the stairs yet?

His throat grew tight, a strange little squeak pushing past his lips as he pressed up against Matsuoka's back, the feel of his shirt against his cheek, the fabric rough but comforting at the same time, doing little to ease him, but he clung all the same, tears built up in his eyes and leaking out the corners before he'd even registered their presence.

"...Leader, are you alright?"

Matsuoka's feet stopped, and Joshima didn't even understand the words for a moment, sounding foreign against the hum of the silence around them.

He took in a shaky breath, snot leaking from his nose to soak into Matsuoka's shirt. Finally, he shook his head in a rigid, jerky nod, voice barely audible as he whispered "I'm fine".

Matsuoka squeezed his hand, the tiny act comforting with his fingers warm, entwined between his own.

"We're almost there, I think..." There was the tiniest of warbles in Matsuoka's voice as his whisper pierced the darkness, lisping.

Joshima felt the body in front of him move, toes already chilled as he slid his own foot forward a beat behind to pull him further through the cold hallway.

And then it was there, just a short ways in front of him and to their right - the stairwell. He could tell because the window high above the entryway, the one that had been above their heads casting the faintest bit of moonlight down onto the stairs earlier, was now visible, even the dim light seeming bright against the pitch black they'd been walking through the last couple of minutes.

Matsuoka swallowed audibly in front of him, and they stepped forward the remaining paces to arrive at the stairs, looming out in front of them, haunting and tinged in a bluish-gray shade from the filtered moonlight. It cast strange shadows across the banister, beckoning them, everything ghostly still.

Just to the bottom of the stairs and to the left was the square doorframe leading to their escape - the front door just inside the adjacent room. Joshima could see it in his head, what the door had looked like in the daylight, though it didn't do much to reassure him now as he gazed down in its direction.

He saw Matsuoka nod in front of him as he peeked around, the light from the window finally making their bodies visible, then they started down the stairs, one step at a time, tiny creak after tiny creak as they reached down tentatively to find each floorboard before entrusting their full weight to it. Joshima's mind went back to what couldn't have been more than ten or fifteen minutes prior but what seemed like hours, when he and Tatsuya had walked up these stairs to begin this whole debacle.

Slowly. Step after step.

They were halfway down now. Joshima's pajama pants were shifting against his legs in a chilling, invisible breeze.

There was a strange metallic clunk from behind them.

They stopped.

Frozen.

A chill crept up Joshima's spine, hair rising on his neck as his brain ceased functioning for a moment.

The clunk transformed into a slow roll, echoing in the entryway, then another clunk as whatever it was fell to the next step.

Clunk.

Roll.

Clunk.

Roll.

Joshima's entire body was shaking. His hand was gripping Matsuoka's so tight his fingers were now pushed painfully into the other's skin. He couldn't breathe.

Clunk.

Roll.

It was right under them now - a marble. A harmless little marble rolling down at their feet, sending vibrations through the floorboard as it hit the wood. Then it continued on, unawares, another clunk as it hit the next stair, and the next, all the way on to the bottom.

They both turned at the same time, not even breathing, heads swiveling to face the direction they'd just come.

There was somebody standing on the landing above them.

Joshima froze. Air rushed into his lungs, through his throat, so fast it pushed a whimper from his lips. His eyes widened, pupils dilating and shaking in their sockets.

It was staring down at them.

A darkened, faceless shadow.

"Leader..." Matsuoka's gaze was fixed on the landing, lips trembling. "Leader, go to the door."

"I-...I can't move..." His feet felt like cement blocks, heavy, stiff, glued to the floorboards. He couldn't think. His vision was shaking, blurry, the shadow above them the only thing sharp and clear and burned into his skull.

And then the shadow moved.

It lunged forward, a blur of dark motion even in the moonlight from the window.

Joshima screamed.

Matsuoka pushed him. " _Go!_ " His voice cracked in a horrified wail as he shoved him, and Joshima fell. Hard. Losing his balance, his feet flipped up from under him and he thudded against the steps with a dull echo, pain shooting up through his back. His world was spinning. He continued to fall, step after step, rolling head over heels and hard edges sinking into his frame, crunching into his bones. He hit his head and everything grew white, vision warped and a guttural moan ripped from his throat. Then he was at the bottom, slamming into the floorboards and his arms splayed out to either side, one leg still propped up on the stairs.

Matsuoka gave out a cry from above him, and he could see him struggling, against what, he couldn't tell, just that black shadow, shapeless in his blurred state as his head tried to reorient itself from the fall, body screaming in pain.

What he could make out, though, was a sudden flash of metal, gleaming in the moonlight.

It snapped him back to attention immediately, and with a skittering of limbs he was pulling himself back to his feet with a cry, running through the doorframe and into the adjacent room.

The door.

The door.

Where was the door?

His arms were out in front of him, hands jiltedly searching the wall as he moved forward. He let out a cry of frustration, tears leaking down his cheeks, hot and stinging.

Where was the door?

His fingers hit the frame of the front door, and his hands scraped across it in a flurry, finding the handle, gripping it in his palms and attempting to wrench it open.

But it didn't budge.

He yanked again, arms aching.

But still it didn't budge.

An instinctive cry gurgled from the back of his throat as he desperately grappled at the handle. The handle itself turned just fine - it wasn't locked, but the door wouldn't open, stuck, not even shaking beneath his repeated tugs as if something was jammed between it and the frame.

He tugged so hard it felt like his arm was going to rip from its socket, the door stubbornly resistant, then he switched tactics, banging his fists against it uselessly as his blurred vision grew red with desperation and fear.

"Open, open, open..." Snot leaked into his mouth, choking him as he beat against the door.

Head swiveling to the side, he looked back towards the stairwell.

The shadow stood in the doorframe, watching him.

A guttural moan billowed from Joshima's chest as he took a step backward, shaking his head.

"Go _away_...!" He backed up so fast he hit the wall, thudding against it and seeing stars for a moment, white hot across his eyes.

The figure stepped into the room.

Joshima panicked, flinging his body off to the right and promptly running into a chair, toppling over it to land with a crash on the floor. He let out a hopeless sob, head spinning for a moment as his eyes flung back to the doorframe and the figure who was now walking towards him.

Hands fumbling and soaked with sweat, he gripped the chair, pushing himself to his feet with a stagger. Picking the chair up, he blindly flung it towards the figure, the force of it nearly sending him back to his rear.

There was a thump as it hit, and Joshima wasted no time. He took off, hyperventilating and eyes wild, his own footsteps thundering around him. He made it to the back of the room, to the open doorway that lead to the living room where their sleeping bags still lay mussed on the floor. He nearly toppled over himself once inside, hands gripping the doorframe to stop himself so he could grab the door and slam it shut behind him.

The thud of it echoed in his ears and he dropped to his rear, hands gripping the frame on his either side and back pressed against the door to hold it shut.

There was a slam. The force of it rocked his body, rattling his skull. He cried out in horror and gripped his hands even tighter into the doorframe, bare feet pressed into the wood flooring as slam after slam hit the door.

His head was pounding. Rattling. His world shaking around him, reverberating through him.

He couldn't think.

He could only cry.

But Joshima's strength held out.

And soon the slams ceased.

His shoulders shook noiselessly as tears and snot leaked down from his chin, throat constricted as sobs continued to wrack his frame.

Silence.

The silence from earlier.

It was all around him. Darkness pressing against the sides of his face, against his chest, curling around his heart.

He squinted his eyes against blurred vision, gazing out across the room, its landscape eerily calm.

The windows down here were boarded up as well, thick boards tightened across their frames and blocking out most of the moonlight, trickling inside in thin beams to cast light against the sofa and their unkempt sleeping bags.

Bringing his shaking hands down from the door frame, he wiped at his face in an attempt to clear his sight, letting out a shuddered breath.

He hiccupped once.

Then twice.

With the third one a sudden realization hit him, and his eyes shot towards the opposite side of the room and the door which led to the kitchen.

The bottom floor was one giant circle - from the kitchen to the study to another hallway leading back around to the stairwell.

_He's walking around through the kitchen._

His heart nearly leapt up into his throat as his eyes fixed themselves on the open door on the other side of the room.

He needed to close it. He needed to find something to block it.

But what if he left and the door he was currently blocking burst open--what if that's what his pursuer wanted?

He didn't know what to do. His breathing picked up, hands to the sides of his face as he simply stared across the room. Short, quick little breaths, again and again. He was starting to get light-headed.

Calm down. He needed to calm down. His heart was beating so loud he couldn't hear.

He took a long slow breath, letting his eyes close for a moment as he attempted to regain control.

It was silent behind him. Behind the door to his back.

Was it safe to assume the shadow was gone?

He had to do something - he couldn't just sit here and wait to be found.

Ever so quietly, he let one hand slide up to find the handle of the door, pulling down just enough that he could crack it open. Still nothing. Not a sound. Not a whisp of air. Nothing.

He swallowed. Hard.

Holding his breath, he pulled the door open enough that he could crawl back through. He couldn't see, groping out awkwardly in the darkness. But he considered this his advantage - invisible and silent. He could crawl back to the stairs.

All the way through and still nothing had happened. The coast seemed clear. He pulled the door back shut behind him to disguise his escape, then crept forward on his hands and knees, staying close to the wall, huddled near the ground.

He made it back to the stairwell, where the moonlight continued to cast everything in an eerie blue hue. His hands refused to pull him forward, unwilling to leave the darkness, only his eyes searching out the stairs not more than a few meters away.

There was something on the ground.

At the bottom of the stairs.

Joshima pushed his lips together, peering at it, not even breathing.

It was Matsuoka.

He was lying perfectly still on the floor, facing away from him on his side like a broken rag doll. Joshima almost let out a whimper at the sight, barely holding in the sound as his lower lip trembled.

His eyes focused, taking him in.

No. Not perfectly still. He was breathing. He was still alive. His abdomen was rising and falling with the slightest of movements.

"Mabo..." His lips mouthed the words but no sound followed.

He let his eyes slide closed, taking a deep breath, willing courage into his hands, willing it into his legs.

When he opened them again, he crawled forward.

"Mabo..." It came out this time, not even enough to be a whisper, but hissing past his teeth all the same. His knees ached from supporting his weight on the hardwood floor, hands no doubt full of splinters as his fingers grasped its surface.

He made it to Matsuoka's side, one hand reaching up to rest on his midsection, warm beneath his touch.

"Mabo..." He swallowed again, saliva gathered beneath his bottom teeth. "Mabo, are you ok...?" Grasping the fabric of Matsuoka's shirt, he gave him a little shake, willing some kind of movement from the limp body on the floor. " _Mabo_..."

There was a murmur, a strange formless sound, and Joshima cocked his head to the side.

"Mabo..."

Gripping tighter, he pulled the other man's body towards him, rolling him over.

Only to have his eyes dilate in horror as Matsuoka's face came into view. His mouth was open, blood leaking out, gushing out, globs of it running across his cheeks, his chin, down his neck. Matsuoka moaned, as if trying to form words, but nothing came out except another river of blood, pouring down the side of his mouth from where his tongue used to be.

Joshima was crawling backwards before he could stop himself, eyes shaking in their sockets and unable to look away, fixated on the dark red disarray that was Matsuoka's face.

He bumped into the stairs, whacking his head, hands instinctively pulling him up as he began hyperventilating again, heart pounding in his ears.

And then the shadow stepped out from the door on the right to stand between them.

Staring at him.

Face masked by a black cloth pulled down over his head, but his eyes visible through a torn patch in the front, raking up Joshima's body to meet his face.

Joshima's own eyes were frozen wide.

Voice gone.

Breath gone.

Rational thought gone.

Something snapped in the back of his mind and suddenly his fingers were grappling at the stairs, pulling him up as a scream rocked his lungs. Faster. Pulling. He couldn't breathe. His hands slipped on the floorboards before sweaty fingers curled inwards and his nails gouged into the wood, bending backwards. He didn't know what was happening. A sob pushed out his throat as he stumbled, wind knocked out of him, before his feet slapped the stairs and sent him upwards, upwards, constantly upwards.

The landing.

He was almost there.

His hand found the banister and pulled him towards the top.

And then he was caught, foot pulled out from under him as he went sailing down, face smashing into the edge of the top step and his nose cracking with a dull thud.

It had his ankle.

He cried out again, not even feeling the pain as blood leaked out his nose.

It had his ankle.

He shook his leg desperately, kicking out with it, pulling up with his hands, trying to pull away, having to pull away.

Down.

He clunked down a step, hitting his head again.

It was pulling him down.

His eyes went wild as he let out a throaty warble, lungs straining.

He kicked out again, cold fingers pressed around the skin of his ankle, sinking into the skin. Groping hands found the banister again, clenching around it, fighting against the force yanking him downwards. He kicked his free foot out, body suspended in air between the banister and the grip on his ankle.

His heel hit something soft.

The grip loosened.

Eyes crazed, he focused all his energy into pulling himself away with a flurried kick of his legs, and then the grip released him entirely.

He could move.

He could move.

He scrambled up the remaining steps, nearly tumbling over himself at the top but regaining his balance before ramming into the opposite wall and spinning on his heels.

Which way was the room they'd been in earlier?

He couldn't remember.

It didn't matter. He ran.

His heart thundered around him, making his vision pulse. He could hear footsteps behind him, up the steps, around the corner.

He was screaming as he hit the door. It jerked with his impact. Trembling hands found the handle, trying to wrench it open, but it wouldn't budge.

He shoved his shoulder into it, clawing at the wood.

"Let me in let me in let me in let me in let me in--"

The door opened and he fell tumbling inside, slamming into the floor.

He couldn't tell what was happening. More slams. Everything was thundering around him. He heard Taichi's voice cry out, grunt. The door shook and rattled and echoed in his head as he lay sobbing in a ragged pile on top of the cold floorboards.

Then it was as if nothing had happened at all.

Silence.

So quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

Haunting and surreal.

"L-... Leader..."

Joshima's head lifted, eyes peeking out from beneath the grimy clumps of his hair, through the tears streaked across his face. Taichi was looking at him from the door, his back pressed against it, his hands tightly pushed against the doorframe to keep it closed.

That was all it took.

He threw himself forward, ramming into Taichi's body, which caused the other's feet to give out from under him and sent both of them sliding to the floor against the wood of the door.

"Leader, sh-shit..." Taichi's arms were around him, holding him tight, clenched in the fabric of his shirt.

And Joshima just cried, sobbing, unable to control himself as his shoulders shook and his lungs gasped.

He threw up.

They stayed there until Joshima had calmed down, now just a shivering ball in Taichi's lap. He pulled himself up, vertebrae in his back popping and straining as he rose to a sitting position, straddling the other man's legs with a cough that wracked his lungs.

Taichi's hand went down to the front of his shirt, wiping off the mess of vomit and blood now soaked into the front with a half-concealed grimace.

Joshima's face was a mess - hair in clumps in front of his eyes, blood leaking down from his nose, bits of grayish stomach matter stuck to his bottom lip, littered down his chin. The coughing flung some of it off to the floor, and some of it onto Taichi's face.

Taichi took it in stride as best he could, holding down the nausea rising in his own stomach. Bringing a hand up, he wiped at Joshima's cheek with his thumb, biting down on his lip.

"...what happened?"

Joshima shook his head weakly, giving an elongated sniff.

"Is Mabo...?"

The head shake was stronger this time, hot tears springing up into Joshima's eyes as his lips pressed together.

"...sh-...shit..." Taichi looked away, eyes tight.

Joshima hiccupped and looked back into the room, towards where the flashlight stood facing upwards, just enough light to make sight possible, and Tatsuya sat against the far wall. He wiped at his cheeks, blood and tears streaking across his arm.

"Where's... where's Nagase?"

"He went to go find you guys, you--you didn't see him?" Taichi's hand found its way to Joshima's hip, fingers idly massaging the fabric.

Joshima let out another cry, shaking his head as blood leaked off from the tip of his nose. "...n-no..."

Had the shadow gotten him too? Or could he have hidden himself - trapped somewhere in the house?

Matsuoka's face drifted back into his head, mouth moving with wordless moans as blood spilled over his lips.

He hiccupped again.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." Taichi's face was in his hand, rubbing at his eyes, brows knit. He let his head angle back to thud against the door.

Joshima watched him dolefully, mouth pulled down in a pathetic frown.

"...at any rate." Taichi glanced back up at him, letting his own mouth pull into the smallest of pitiful smiles. "Let's see if we can get you cleaned up." He gave his rear a little pat, gesturing up with his hand. "Up, up, up..."

Joshima obediently got to his feet, eyes searching the door worriedly as Taichi followed suit.

"B-but what about... the door?"

"Hm?" Taichi looked back, then shook his head. "Ah, it's fine." He stepped over to where a chest of drawers seemed to have been pushed hastily to the side. "Nagase helped me move this over from the far wall before he left. I'll just move it back over the door. Go sit by the flashlight."

Joshima chewed on his lip, but finally complied as Taichi got to work lugging the heavy piece of furniture in front of the door. At least this room had no other entrances.

Trudging over to the flashlight where Tatsuya sat against the wall, he let himself fall down to his knees, one hand resting itself on the other man's leg.

Tatsuya started, as if being woken up, turning his head this way and that.

"It's just me - it's Shige." Joshima's brows furrowed, but he gave Tatsuya's leg a reassuring pat.

One of Tatsuya's hands came up, searching tentatively, and Joshima pressed his against it, entwining their fingers.

"Hey." Tatsuya's mouth curled into a tiny smile.

"Hey."

His hand was cold, clammy. The shirt sleeve Matsuoka'd used to tie around his head earlier was now a deep red, dried, caked blood soaked through the front, but his cheeks and chin appeared to have been cleaned up some, only faint reddish streaks marring the skin.

"How you doing?"

"...I've been better." It was followed by a pathetic chuckle.

There was a loud screech from behind them, and Joshima's head spun around, Tatsuya's hand tensing between his fingers.

He turned back, giving him a reassuring little squeeze. "Taichi just pulled the cabinet in front of the door."

"Ah..."

Silence then. Tatsuya's face stared off somewhere in front of him.

"...where'd Mabo and Nagase go? I've been a little... out of it..."

Joshima bit his lip, thumb idly rubbing the back of Tatsuya's hand. When he didn't answer right away, Tatsuya's head turned in his general direction, corners of his mouth turned down.

"...oh."

"Yeah..."

He squeezed his hand tighter, pressing his face against their entwined fingers and letting out a shaky sigh.

Behind them, Taichi appeared to be rummaging through the far cupboards, clinking bottles harsh in the silence.

Tatsuya's head tilted to the side, his fingers pulling away from Joshima's to instead press against his face. "...are _you_ okay?"

Joshima started to shake his head. "I-...I'm fine, I-..."

Tatsuya's hand cupped his cheek, thumb tracing the skin towards his nose, down to his lips and chin, through the grime and blood and coming back moist.

"Shige..."

Joshima shook his head again, though instinctively pushing his face against Tatsuya's hand, the contact comforting, calming.

"I'm fine."

"Alright, Leader, I got a towel and some alcohol." Taichi's voice came from behind them as he stepped over, crossing his legs as he sat down.

"Sounds like my kinda party." Tatsuya grinned, taking his hand away and resting his head back against the wall.

Taichi motioned with his finger for Joshima to turn and face him, which he did, dropping to his rear as he swiveled around.

"That's it." Taichi poured some of the bottle out onto the towel, wetting it, the smell strong and already stinging Joshima's nostrils. Another gesture of his finger and Joshima leaned his face forward, Taichi bringing the towel up to begin gently rubbing at his face.

It stung horribly, especially around his nose, and the smell was overbearing, turning him light-headed for a few moments, but it did the trick - little bit by little bit, the blood and the stomach matter coming off with the towel. Once he'd finished with his chin and cheeks, he switched to a clean part of the towel and wiped his forehead, down across his eyes, the moisture cool and wonderfully refreshing.

"There..."

A tiny trickle of blood continued to leak down from his nose, and Taichi pressed the towel back under it. "Hold this until it stops completely."

Joshima took it, keeping it pressed against the skin, though not too tight, as his nose itself was still tender, even the slightest touches making it ache and anything more causing his eyes to water.

"We need to figure out what to do." Taichi bit his lip as he recorked the bottle of alcohol.

Joshima sat back against the wall, shoulder instinctively pressing against Tatsuya's as he fingered the towel. "The front door is no good." He shook his head morosely. "It's completely jammed... I couldn't get it open..."

Taichi frowned down at the flashlight, one hand beneath his chin. "And the windows are all boarded up."

"If only there was some way we could contact the staff..." Joshima sniffed, getting another huge whiff of alcohol smell up his nose.

They were quiet, staring down into nothing, huddled around the flashlight like a campfire.

Tatsuya's hand found Joshima's knee, fingers gently rubbing across it, either for Joshima's benefit or his own.

Taichi pursed his lips, head lifting up in sudden thought. "Upstairs."

"Hm?" Joshima turned to him incredulously.

"When we were got here, right? When we were outside? Remember seeing those dilapidated windows up on the top floor?"

"Yeah, it looked awful." Joshima shook his head. Then seemed to register what Taichi was saying. "...they weren't boarded up."

"Exactly." Taichi pointed a finger towards him. "We could see right into the top floor - not very well, obviously, but you see what I'm getting at."

Tatsuya spoke up for the first time. "But how are you gonna get down from the third floor?"

This silenced them.

For a moment.

"We can climb down - there were plenty of old boards and shutters sticking out - and there was that patch of roof above the front door. We can jump down to there, then jump to the ground." Taichi had a finger to his temple, eyes flitting this way and that as if imagining it in his head.

"And then we can go get help." Joshima took the towel away from his nose to look down at the growing red spot in its center.

Taichi nodded slowly. "I think it's our best plan right now."

They both looked over at Tatsuya, still silent and simply staring in front of himself. Joshima's hand came down on the hand still on his knee, fingers curling around it softly.

"...we'll get you help."

Taichi's jaw tightened and he gave a resolute nod. "And we'll save the others." He pushed himself to his feet, dusting his knees off. "We should leave soon. Who knows how long they have."

Joshima's head turned upwards with a flick, brows furrowing. "What are we gonna... do with him?"

"I'll be fine, Shige." Tatsuya took his hand back, corners of his mouth turning upwards in a visibly forced smile.

"We'll take the flashlight with us - once we go up a floor, we might need to use it to find our way around." Taichi was glancing about, almost as if trying to determine what else they'd need to take, despite the fact that there was nothing else even available. He swooped down to pick up the flashlight, bouncing it in his hand and making the light on the wall dance.

Joshima leaned forward towards Tatsuya, wrapping his arms around his chest for a hug as Tatsuya instinctively brought his hands to his head, fingers carding through his hair.

"...stop that, you. You won't be gone long."

The words were laced with a chuckle.

Joshima could feel it against his cheek, Tatsuya's chest bouncing with the effort.

But it trailed off as Joshima swallowed hard.

"...right."

When he sat back up, Tatsuya let his hand trace across his face once more, using it as his sight, fingertips tracing down to his chin.

"I'll be back soon."

He pushed his face into the other's hand for a quick moment, then rose to his feet, wandering off towards Taichi, now at the door and working to push the cabinet back out of the way.

Taichi raised an eyebrow at him as he came up beside him.

Joshima just glanced back incredulously. "What?"

"Nothing." Taichi's hands were around the base of the cabinet. "Help me lift this a little bit so we can move it without making so much noise."

"A-ah... right." Kneeling down on the other side, Joshima gripped the base, and then the two of them half-walked the cabinet free of the door, this time without the piercing screech from before.

Taichi ran a hand through his hair as he stood back up. "The third-floor stairs were across from the closet just to the left, right?"

Joshima nodded wordlessly, heart starting to beat more quickly now that they were in front of the door. Now that they were actually going back out there, into the darkness, to where that shadow lurked somewhere, hidden from sight. He brought his hands together, nervously wringing them back and forth.

Taichi's own hand came down on top of them. "Just follow me, okay?"

A quick little jerk of a nod.

Then Taichi's fingers were around the handle of the door and he was pulling it open. Slowly. Silently. He'd turned the flashlight off already, not wanting to reveal their location so easily until they were up a floor. A dark, black cavern awaited them as they stepped back out into the hallway, Joshima's hands instinctively finding the back of Taichi's shirt so he could follow him through the darkness.

It was the same as before. With Matsuoka.

Deathly quiet. Deathly still.

Like walking through a thick, black web of nothingness.

Joshima could feel his heart, pit-pat, pit-pat'ing away in his chest, echoing around him. He closed his eyes, not needing them anyway, the fabric of Taichi's shirt clenched tight between his fingers, his one lifeline.

Taichi moved with a purpose in each step, carefully, toes feeling out across the cold floor as they made their way to the left, away from the downstairs stairwell and instead to the ones leading up. There was something ominous about it - they hadn't even tried to venture to the third floor during the day - but now that it was their one way out, they didn't have a choice.

Joshima's stomach twisted, gurgled, the noise frighteningly loud, and he fought it down, willing it to be silent.

It didn't take them long - the upstairs stairwell had only been a few doors down, and soon Taichi's searching foot hit the first step, toes feeling up the side of it until coming to rest on top.

His hand reached back.

Joshima almost gasped as it grabbed his arm, then forced himself to calm down when he realized it was just Taichi. The hand wandered up to his face, the feeling of one finger pressed against his lips - silence. Then it was back down, finding his hand and pulling it away from his shirt, wrapping around his wrist instead so he could pull him up after him on the stairs.

They ascended the stairs slowly, Taichi testing his weight on each step before pulling himself up to the next one. Stepping up to the sixth step resulted in a loud creak, the wood straining back against his foot, and both of them froze. Not moving. Silent aside from the heightened beating of their hearts as they simply listened and hoped, hoped to god and whatever else was out there that they hadn't drawn any unwanted attention.

Joshima felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a strange chill creeping up along his spine, up to his shoulders, across his arms.

Don't look back.

He couldn't swallow. Taichi's fingers were pressed deep in his skin, sweat gliding between them, a thin little bead of water scurrying across his wrist. It tickled.

Don't look back.

The air loomed behind him, tangible almost, thick like pudding. He felt eyes pointed at his backside, searing the skin, raking up his body, the shadowed figure from earlier just waiting for his chance to pounce.

He couldn't breathe.

Taichi began to move again. One step. Two steps. Up they went. The stairs didn't creak.

It grew cold.

When they reached the top, Taichi's hand searched out the door, finding the handle, his fingers tugging at it hesitantly, as it afraid it might bite. Ever so slowly, he pulled it downwards, gently pushing the door open before stepping inside.

The smell was what hit them first. An old, musty smell - dust, mildew, year upon year of stagnant air rushing into their nostrils.

Joshima stepped gingerly around to Taichi's side once they were both out of the stairwell, and Taichi closed the door behind them to disguise their trail.

Cold.

It was cold.

The sound of shutters clanking, back and forth, back and forth - the open windows. It came from off to their left, and sure enough, a faint little light seemed to be coming from that direction, blocked by strangely-shaped shadows and indecipherable black forms.

Joshima took a step closer to Taichi, pressed against his shoulder, the warmth comforting.

Taichi turned on the flashlight.

They were in an attic.

A large attic, but an attic nonetheless.

Battered old shelves, chests of drawers, old wooden boxes and crates littered the floor, covered by dust and cobwebs. As Taichi's flashlight scanned the room, the light fell on all manner of battered, broken items - disfigured porcelain dolls, their eyes faded, sightless. An old coat-rack. Someone's teddy-bear, the fur mangled and discolored. A globe, a sewing mannequin, a pile of discarded wire hangers, scattered stacks of books.

Taichi swallowed audibly, eyes narrowing as he gazed out across the large room.

Joshima's hands found the other man's wrist, fingers curling around it. "...I can hear the wind outside..."

The shutters banged again. Clanking against the side of the house.

Taichi nodded.

"Come on."

They began maneuvering through the room, stepping clear of shelves, moving around tables and toppled-over spice racks and old broken chairs.

It was deathly quiet.

Except for the shutters.

clack-clack

It made Joshima's hair stand on end.

clack-clack

Further into the room, the light from the nearest window was brighter, coming from above them to cast shadows across the mess of antiques strewn over the floor.

Joshima felt something crawl across his foot and his eyes flew down, a large spider scurrying across his skin. He jumped, flinging it away with a whimper and ramming into Taichi's back in the process, nearly knocking him over. His hip hit a nearby table, rocking it back and forth and sending a dusty Magic 8 ball to the floor with a thump.

Taichi turned towards him with a glare. "Leader." It hissed past his lips, and Joshima winced, making himself smaller.

"...s-sorry..."

They were quiet. Listening.

clack-clack

Nothing besides the shutters.

Everything was silent. Still.

Then out of nowhere came the tinny clang of a music box. It sang out into the dark room, the once happy tune now almost demonic and sending Joshima's heart into overdrive.

He bolted towards Taichi, arms wrapping themselves around his waist as he sank to his knees. Taichi himself froze to the spot, eyes wide and shaking as he stared out into empty space. The light of the flashlight, focused somewhere between two far shelves, was trembling.

Joshima couldn't breathe. Heart echoing in his head, his lungs took in air in rapid spurts, so quickly his vision started to blur from lack of oxygen.

The music box continued to ting, chiming merrily in the darkness, trapped somewhere beneath piles of old dusty junk.

Each note hit a different nerve, goosebumps rising up across his arms and neck.

Taichi took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down as he regained control of his muscles. One hand came down to Joshima's head, carding through his hair, as his head swiveled back and forth to ascertain their surroundings.

Nothing moved.

Nothing flinched.

Only the sound of the music box continued, haunting and eerie in the dim light from the window.

It grew slower. The song grinding, mechanism winding down, slowing down, trudging along as each tiny little chime sung out another half-beat behind its predecessor.

Joshima's hands were clenched in Taichi's shirt and pants, face buried in his thigh, eyes shut tight to ward off the music.

Slower.

Still slower.

A tiny cling. A tiny clang.

It stopped. Silence again. A heavy, suffocating silence, hanging down over their heads like a web.

Taichi's fingers threaded through Joshima's hair a few more times, then gave his head a little pat, shifting his legs that had been locked in place, rooted to the floor.

"...c'mon."

An offered hand helped Joshima to his feet, and he wobbled a few times, dizzy for a second as the blood rushed to his head, but then he was walking behind him again, and the two were making their way slowly around the nearest bookshelf, nearing the far wall where the window offered freedom and escape.

It was above their heads. The window. Spindles of moonlight drifted into the attic, a pale blue, making their faces look sickly and gaunt. Against the wall beneath the window was a cabinet, its shelves straining against the weight of books and dust-covered knick-knacks.

"It's too high..." Joshima's voice almost got caught in his throat before it came out. His hand was on Taichi's shoulder, fingers idly massaging the fabric.

Taichi began glancing around, assessing their situation. The window was indeed well above either of their heights - maybe Nagase would have been able to reach it on his tiptoes, but neither of them came close. Amidst the eclectic mess of junk and furniture, there didn't seem to be a ladder or step-stool in their immediate vicinity.

"Maybe we can..." He took a step forward, fingers tracing the front of the cabinet, along the shelves as he sized it up. The top of the cabinet was only maybe two or feet below the opening of the window.

"It doesn't look very sturdy." Joshima's lips were pressed tightly together as he watched, one finger gingerly pushing at his nose and causing him to wince.

"Neither of us weigh much though - and I don't see anything else around." Taichi looked back at him, eyes searching out the area behind them as well, just in case. "Come on, I'll go first so I can help you up."

Taichi pulled himself up on the front of the cabinet, feet testing the weight of the shelves, sinking beneath his weight, but not buckling. One shelf, then another, his hands grasped the top of the cabinet as he made his way up, pulling himself up and over on top. He wiped his hands off, fingers covered in dust and cobwebs.

"See?"

"...I guess." Joshima's worry hadn't dissipated, but he took a step forward all the same. "Like this?" His hands found one of the shelves, fingers pushing into the grain.

"That's it... just watch your footing. One shelf at a time."

Tentatively, Joshima brought a foot up, toes supporting his weight on a heavily-curved shelf three up from the bottom. He stepped up.

"There you go."

One shelf. Two shelves. His hands reached up to grip the top of the cabinet, curling around the dusty surface.

"Give me your hand - I'll pull you up." Taichi's hand was above him, offered out, and Joshima gritted his teeth, gripping harder with his left hand so he could let go with his right, reaching up.

The shelf his foot was on snapped.

With a little yelp, he slipped, hands flying to catch his fall, but not before his chin rammed into the nearest shelf with a crack.

His muscles loosened involuntarily as his vision pulsed, and he slipped off, falling to the floor limply as his head conked against the wood.

"Shit--!" Taichi tried to grab him but missed, in his frenzied effort, leaning down over the side of the cabinet and losing his balance. He fell with a thud of his own, head bouncing against the floor.

And then the cabinet tipped.

Taichi had just enough time to push Joshima out of the way before it came down on him.

"Taichi!" The half-scream was out before Joshima could stop it. It fell with a crash, the sound of it echoing through the attic and shaking other things in the process, books falling to the floor.

"Shit, fuck, goddammit..." Taichi's voice bit out through the darkness with a groan.

Joshima crawled over, finding Taichi pinned beneath the weight of the cabinet, his upper half free but his legs and pelvis held tight under the heavy boards.

"...Taichi?" He looked down at him, Taichi's hand clenching and unclenching above his head, eyes closed. Joshima's hands came down softly on his forehead, inquisitively, his eyes searching the piece of furniture that now held him captive.

"Shit..." Taichi's eyes opened, looking up into Joshima's face as he winced.

"Are you alright?"

"Well, I don't think anything's broken..." Taichi glanced down at his predicament. "But I can't move my legs at all. Can you get this off?"

Joshima stood up, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he looked at the cabinet. "I can... try." He went to the side of it, attempting to get his fingers under the edge, slipping against the grain. With a grunt, he pushed against it, shoulders and arms straining. It lifted about a centimeter before Joshima's strength gave out and he let it fall back to the floor.

Taichi bit out sharply in pain, hand pulling at his hair.

"It's heavy." Joshima's jaw was clenched tight. He tried again - already waning strength tugging at the heavy weight in desperate, scratchy movements. He let out a depleted breath of air as he failed a second time.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop--..." Taichi was wincing, eyes clenched shut. Each time Joshima attempted to pull up made one of the shelves grind down into his calves.

"I'm sorry!" Joshima let out a whimper, stepping back and away from the cabinet like it was on fire. "What should I do?"

Taichi was silent a moment, letting the pain reside, before his eyes were open and his head was swiveling from side to side. "Is there anything you can--"

There was the sound of a door opening.

Quiet yet loud at the same time.

The two of them froze.

Taichi's eyes opened wide, air catching in his lungs. Joshima dropped to his knees at Taichi's side, breaths already quick and getting even faster as tears built up in his eyes.

Taichi grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in close.

"Breathe, Shige, breathe. Calm the fuck down." His voice barely hissed out into the darkness, his eyes staring up into Joshima's with a visceral energy.

Joshima's breath got caught in his throat, gaze focused on Taichi's face, on his eyes, on the way his lips were moving. His back went rigid.

When Taichi spoke again it was slow, commanding. "...you need to go hide. Listen to me." He pulled him in closer, fingers chokingly tight in the fabric of his shirt. "Go hide. Until he leaves. It'll do us no good if he gets both of us."

Joshima shook his head in quick, desperate jerks. "I'm not gonna leave you!"

Taichi pulled him down until their noses were practically touching, glaring, his hand shaking at the exertion.

"Fuck that." His breath was hot on Joshima's face. "Shige, go."

Something about it pulled a string in Joshima's nerves, a twinge that traveled up and down his back, to the tips of his fingers, up into his head.

He was to his feet.

He didn't even look back, diving off into a pile of half-toppled chairs a short distance away, out of the moonlight, completely dark. He crawled down into them, hiding himself, squeezing his body as small as he could and pressing himself to the floor, tighter and tighter, willing himself to disappear, to sink into the floorboards.

His head was swimming, red and orange, on and off, pulsing in and out as his heart pounded in his chest. He tried to swallow and couldn't. Tried to breathe and couldn't. His body trembled as his fingernails dug themselves into the floor.

He could see Taichi.

So tiny, pressed between the floor and the cabinet, his upper half a grayish-blue in the light from the window above. The flashlight had rolled off to the left, lighting up a row of empty mason jars.

"Taichi..." It fluttered on his lips, a tiny whisp of air as his insides churned.

Then someone stepped towards him.

Joshima put a hand to his mouth, tears gathering in his eyes, hot like fire.

A pair of feet stood just above Taichi's head, the rest of him hidden by the top of the chair Joshima's body was squished beneath.

Taichi looked up, one hand splayed off to the side, strangely calm.

The figure kneeled down - Joshima could see more of him now, body adorned in black cloth that folded and wrinkled between his legs as he sank to the ground.

"Why are you doing this?"

Taichi's voice made his heart jump for a second, no longer whispered, but hissed with an inner rage that made his eyes flare up.

There was no answer.

A bare hand, sticking out from its black sleeve, traced up Taichi's neck, tapping his chin.

Joshima bit back the bile gathering in the back of his throat.

Then there was a flash of metal, a dull, rusted silver, and there was a hand pulling at Taichi's ear, stretching it, yanking it away from his head, a horrible gush of red appearing as the serrated knife began sawing it off.

Taichi's cry was immediate, a horrible, throaty sob from the back of his throat as he writhed and twisted, trying to pull his head away but only ripping his ear off more as he tugged on it, still tight in the man's grip. His hand beat the floor, a tightly clenched fist, blood pouring down to splat against the floorboards.

Joshima almost lost it, stomach churning, roiling, acid biting at the back of his tongue as he nearly threw up. Both hands now gripped at his mouth as tears leaked down his cheeks, unable to look away, eyes glued to scene in front of him, only meters away.

The ear was gone. Completely separated. Taichi was sobbing, head wrenching back and forth, a deep red tissuey lesion where his ear used to be. Then a hand was clamped down on his face, jerking it to the side as he began on the other ear, Taichi's sobs rising in pitch, shaking Joshima down to his core, heart sucked into his chest as he lay shaking violently in the dark beneath the chairs.

The whole thing didn't take longer than a minute. Blood pooled beneath Taichi's head, reflecting the dim moonlight, glistening as it dribbled down in thick red globules. The ears got tossed off to the side, discarded, Taichi's head now stained a deep red, both sides raw, sinewy, like fleshy holes. Tears were leaking down his cheeks, mixing with the blood, streaking across his cheeks, his chin, his neck, his eyes clenched shut as he groaned and sobbed and cried out in pain.

Joshima couldn't keep it in anymore. He felt it all the way in his stomach, tossed over and over, a foul taste rising to his mouth as bile pushed up from his throat and he let it out with a splatter to the floor.

The reaction was immediate. The figure got to his feet, turned in his direction, and Joshima felt his heart clench with dread as he sucked in his breath with a sickening heave, swallowing a gulp of stomach matter before it left his mouth.

Closer.

Footsteps thundering around him, in him.

Closer.

Black boots clomping on the floorboards, so close to his head.

He moved before he'd even registered it, backing up, away, pushing himself into the chairs which toppled over, raining down around him. He couldn't see. They smacked into his head, sinking into his body, his hands were in front of his face, legs pushing, pushing, pushing him further backwards, away, away.

He hit the wall.

He couldn't move.

His eyes opened and he saw the figure only meters away, staring at him from across the pile of chairs, eyes invisible yet there, always there, taking him in, hot like fire, tinging his skin and burning his lungs.

Letting out a throaty yell, he pushed himself away from the wall, to the left, clambering over furniture, tables, chairs, around shelves, tripping over books and racks, unable to see, falling to the ground but picking himself up through sheer adrenaline, whacking himself against things, painful jabs against his shins, against his knees.

Keep moving.

He didn't look back--he couldn't look back. Forward. His breath was squeezed from his lungs, in and out, he could taste blood in his mouth. Forward. He knocked things over, falling to his knees, sharp edges biting at his skin, gouging out pieces of flesh, scraping, tugging, pulling. Forward. He couldn't even see. His eyes were closed. When he opened them, he barely dodged running into the back of a bookshelf, twisting around just in time and getting the wind knocked out of him by the handle of a rusty tricycle.

He was screaming as he sailed, twisted out of the mess, flying forward and ramming into the door with a grunt. His hands found the handle, yanking it open, feet pulling him through the door before losing their footing and then he was falling, crashing, thudding down the stairs, world revolving around him, a dark spinning abyss.

The landing rose up to meet him, arm twisting unnaturally beneath him with a scissor-like snap, shoulder on fire. He couldn't think. He couldn't move at first - his muscles didn't respond. Something wasn't functioning right. Then his feet twitched, feeling rushing through his body with a fuzzy, tingling pain, and he pushed himself to his feet, limping, staggering, one arm forward and the other dangling useless at his side.

The closet.

He pulled open the door and let himself collapse inside, slamming it behind him with his back pressed against the wood, stagnant, stale air washing into his lungs as his chest heaved, attempting to breathe, throaty sobs wracking his frame.

His world stood still then. Nothing moved. The walls were pressed in close, the smell carving out his innards, but he was away. Away. He took long, slow, trembling breaths as tears continued to dribble down his cheeks. He couldn't feel anything. Nothing. His body was numb--he couldn't even remember what had just happened. Strange, nonsensical images floated across his vision like pinpricks in his eyes.

Then the pain caught up with him.

It was his arm. Limp, useless at his side. It started at his shoulder, a glimmer of fire, hot, like a red poker sticking into his flesh. Then it spread, across his shoulder, down towards his elbow, pulsing, on off, on off, making his head swim.

He could still move his fingers. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger, pinky. They stretched upwards, his muscles straining. Then his hand--up and down, his wrist revolved about, sharp twinges of pain following, but moving nonetheless.

Finally came his whole arm. He tried to move it upwards, straining against gravity, and it did move, a few inches up above the ground, but then it was like white hot fire across his skin, buried deep within his muscles, vision turning red as a little gasp escaped his mouth.

Better not to move it at all.

Curling his knees up towards his chest, he encircled them with his good arm, face buried down into the tattered fabric on his knees. He could feel his pants sticking to his legs, stinging wet pain where sharp edges had scratched, gouged at the skin, and now blood was soaking into the fabric. His feet burned with a residual ache.

He sat there and cried, noiseless tears gathering beneath his chin before staining his shirt.

It was silent.

Nothing behind him. Nothing in the hallway, nothing from up in the attic.

Or at least nothing that he could hear over his heart, still pounding away in his chest ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump. He could still see Taichi, trapped and helpless under the cabinet.

"Why are you doing this?"

Why are you doing this?

His eyes stung from the hot tears. Boiling, it seemed. Boiling his eyes right in their sockets.

What was he going to do?

They were gone now. All of them. If only he could find Nagase--was he hiding somewhere too? Or had the shadow already gotten him and he was just like the others?

He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing another gush of tears from beneath his eyelids.

He wished he could shut out everything.

Away.

Stay away.

There was nothing he could do.

Poor little Leader sitting all alone in a closet waiting to die.

He wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve, leaving a trail of snot. The hiccups started again, painful burps in his chest, and he willed them to go down, afraid of any sound he might make. He held his breath until his vision swam and his head throbbed.

Stay here.

He'd stay here the whole night--he was safe here. Nothing could reach him.

But what about the others? They needed help--if they weren't dead already. Their faces flashed across his vision, dark, red, so much red. They were going to die. He could feel Tatsuya's hand on his knee, against his face, fingers stroking his cheeks.

Cold. His fingers were so cold.

Tatsuya was going to die if he didn't get him help. Alone in that cold, black room against the wall, waiting for him.

But the only way out was the attic--and he wasn't going back there. Not after what happened. Not when the very thing he was trying to run away from could still be there.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't make himself do it.

Huddling tighter into his little ball, he curled and uncurled the fabric of his pants between his fingers.

Maybe if he could just get back to the room where Tatsuya was, they could think of something together. Even if they couldn't, the thought of somebody else, anybody else, a warm body to press against, to hold him, seemed like heaven on earth at the moment. Could he make it there? It wasn't far--just down the hallway. He could crawl there, sneak inside, push that big cabinet in front of the door so they'd be safe. He wanted it so bad his heart squeezed and twisted in his chest.

He could do it.

It wasn't far.

He had just enough courage to get him there--he was sure of it.

But maybe a minute longer.

And another.

His knees felt frozen together, feet stitched into the floorboards. If only he hadn't run into this stupid closet in the first place - he could have run a bit further, right back into the room they'd started in. He pushed his face into his knees even further, squishing his nose until it stung and began making his head throb.

Outside.

It was still silent outside. Not a peep.

His heart had begun to calm down.

Sitting up with his back to the door, he stared into the darkness up at the ceiling, invisible but there, above his head, keeping him enclosed in his tiny, dank prison cell.

He got up to his knees, slowly, carefully, good hand pressed to the door as he leaned against it, listening, craning his ears and his senses. Still nothing. Nothing at all.

Back to Tatsuya.

Back to safety.

His fingers found the handle, pulling it down until the door slid open.

It was cold outside the closet, chilly, he hadn't remembered it being this cold. Breath stuck in his throat, he crawled out, sliding along the dusty floorboards as his knees cried out in pain. He couldn't see anything. He was crawling through a vacuum, like space, nothingness on all sides, pushing tiny little pins into his skin and making his nerves dance.

He crawled until he reached the wall on the far side, leaning heavily on his good arm, the other one trailing along beside him, weighing him down. From there, he began following the wall, sliding down along it as he ventured slowly forward. He couldn't remember which side the door was on--this one? The opposite one? It was all a blur in his head. He only knew that it was this direction, opposite the attic stairs, away, away, away.

It was slow, his knees aching, but finally the wall disappeared to his left. A corner. Was it around the corner? He tried to breathe so he could think better, could solve the puzzle in his mind, but nothing came and he just sat there, cold and alone.

He continued on, around the corner. Onwards. Keep pushing forward, Shige, keep pushing forward. He was strong. He was courageous.

It was lighter. He didn't notice it at first, eyes so saturated with blackness, but then he realized it all at once, the blue-haze of moonlight making it light enough that he could see his hands below him, clenched against the floor.

He glanced around. The stairwell. He'd gone too far--all the way to the stairwell, the landing just barely tinted with the moonlight from the upper window.

\--and something else.

His eyes focused on it immediately. Downstairs. He could see over the edge, into the dim blue stairwell, the doorway he'd gone through not more than an hour or two earlier.

A pale yellow light.

There was a light on downstairs.

His eyes shook, staring at it, brain attempting to process this bit of information and what it meant, what it could possibly mean. There was a light on--where? Was it coming from the living room? Where their sleeping bags were? That was certainly the room just on the other side of the entryway--if the door was open, the light would drift through, just as it was now.

When had the light come back on? Who had turned it on?

The staff.

The staff.

He was to his feet before he'd even realized it, closer to the stairs now, hand taking the railing as he gazed down. The doorway just to the left of the downstairs landing wasn't dark like it had been earlier, a soft yellow light making the wall and chairs visible, drifting in from the adjacent room.

If not the staff then somebody, somebody here to help them--there was no other explanation.

His feet took him down the stairs, softly, but quickening with each step, one hand gripping the rail to keep him steady. The light seemed brighter the closer he got. He could even see the outline of the front door, the print of the wallpaper.

He made it to the bottom and dashed into the entryway, eyes focusing immediately on the far door to the living room where the light was indeed on. That single yellow lightbulb that had hung above their heads, lighting their card game only a few hours earlier.

Running forward, he nearly tripped, catching himself on the door frame before he was inside.

He stopped.

Eyes shaking. Air caught in his lungs for a moment.

"N-...Nagase!"

Nagase was facing away from him, but turned at his call, face lighting up. And that was all it took - Joshima was racing forward, tears already welling up in his eyes as he flung himself against Nagase's chest, the other man's burly arms wrapping around him, holding him in tight, wonderfully warm, wonderfully protective.

"Nagase, I... I thought you were..."

Nagase didn't say anything, one hand rubbing his back as Joshima's shoulders shook with pent-up tension.

Then Joshima pulled away, still trying to see through blurry eyes, pointing back towards the door. "The others, we-... we have to go get the others, we have to..."

He turned around.

They were there.

All three of them.

In chairs facing him.

Taichi's eyes were wide-open, staring at him, head shaking back and forth violently, his arms pulled back and tied behind him to the chair.

Joshima stood in a stupor, unable to move. Unable to comprehend.

His muscles twitched.

His heart jerked in his chest.

"Nagase, what's...?"

He turned around with his pupils dilated and trembling in his sockets.

And Nagase pulled a revolver from his back pocket and shot him in the foot.

Joshima went down before he even felt it, his leg giving out from beneath him as blood and tissue spurted up from his bare foot. Then the pain--sharp, running up his leg like electricity, burning, so hot he wanted to cry out, his whole body alight with fire.

He hit the ground.

Staring upwards in shock, his vision danced from the impact of his head and the floor.

Boots. The sound of those heavy boots, echoing around him.

The same as they had in the attic.

Nagase tossed the gun off to the side, hitting the sofa with a clunk, then he walked over to Joshima. Slow. Calm.

Joshima was frozen on the floor, lips parted as they took in shuddered breaths. His vision swam in front of him, a giant whirl of colors and glaring light. Then there was a dark shadow above him and his eyes came into focus.

"I was wondering when you'd join us." Nagase was smiling at him. Not the smile Joshima knew so well, full of laughter, full of amusement.

This was different.

He could feel the blood forming a pool beneath his foot, sticky and warm.

"Nagase...?" His voice caught in his throat, squeaking.

Nagase laughed, mouth curling upwards even further, demonic.

"You always were the slowest one, Leader. Stupid." He tapped his index finger to his temple.

"Let him go..."

Nagase glanced upwards, back towards the others where Taichi was watching with tears in his eyes. Next to him, Matsuoka was trying not to look, dried blood caked on his chin, all down the front of his neck and shirt.

Nagase stood back up, twirling on his feet as he stepped over to the chairs. Joshima's eyes followed him in continued disbelief.

"You see, Leader, these three have each done something very bad." Nagase let his hand come down on Taichi's head, giving it a little shake as Taichi winced and closed his eyes. "So I've punished them."

Joshima stared at them wide-eyed, not comprehending. Tatsuya looked about to pass out, slouched over in his chair, skin a pale-blue color beneath the cloth wrap around his eyes.

"But you, Leader." Nagase's grin grew even wider, eyes glowing. "You've been the naughtiest of all." He stepped over, gazing down at Joshima's form like a piece of meat.

Joshima shuddered, heart sinking into his stomach as his nerves danced.

Nagase leaned down, taking Joshima's chin in his hand and stroking his cheek with a surprising tenderness.

"Don't worry. It'll all be over soon."

Joshima's pupils dilated, breath cutting short.

Don't worry. It'll all be over soon.

"Leader, where are we going?"

Nagase's hair had been much shorter. That pudgy face turned towards him, inquiring, hand pressed between his own.

1093

The hotel room number.

He could still remember it, emblazoned into his mind, gold lettering against a dark black border. The gold had been flecked off in places, leaving grayish splotches behind.

Joshima's grip on Nagase's hand tightened. He turned towards him, kneeling down, lips trembling.

"..."

His mouth moved but he didn't know what he was saying.

Nagase's eyes were big and round, confused, but trusting. His mouth moved. What was he saying? The sound came after the visual, late.

"What's going on?"

He could still hear it. Nagase's voice had been so high back then, lisping.

Joshima felt tears build in his eyes, in the corners, but he blinked them away, shaking his head. He reached a hand forward to card through Nagase's hair, soft beneath his fingers.

"..."

Why couldn't he hear what he said? Nagase's eyes tightened, worried, unsure.

His vision flashed again, Nagase was still above him, staring down at him, grinning down at him, his hand in his hair, affectionate, but Joshima's body was shaking, his eyes locked on Nagase's.

"Don't worry. It'll all be over soon."

The 14-year-old Nagase was back. He looked visibly worried now, but Joshima took his hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. Then he was opening the door, dark on the other side, door 1093 with the gold flecking off the numbers.

He nodded with a forced smile.

Then ushered Nagase into the room, shutting the door behind him.

Don't worry. It'll all be over soon.

Nagase's hand was still on his chin, fingers like white hot pokers, searing into his skin.

Joshima opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Nagase reached both arms down, beneath his frame, lifting him up into the air. His head tilted back and his arms and legs hung limp towards the floor, blood dripping off his foot. He felt tears form in his eyes.

Stop.

Don't.

Nagase gazed down at him warmly, his smile soft, but his eyes. His eyes, they weren't right. They fed on him.

Run.

But he couldn't run. His energy was gone, his body was battered. His heart was beating so fast he could die from it, all around him, through him. Nagase's arms tightened around him, holding him close, fingers making indents in his skin.

"Nagase, don't!" Taichi's voice was panicked, desperate. Joshima could hear him pull against his restraints, the chair screeching across the floor.

But Nagase just flashed him a smile, hungry.

Then walked off to the kitchen and out of sight, leaving behind a trail of blood.

\-----

Joshima's sobs rang out through the house. The three in their chairs winced, tears staining their cheeks, the air cold and threatening and aching in their bones.

Taichi bit down on his tongue, blood filling his mouth, his wrists rubbed raw beneath the plastic cords binding them together.

It was awful.

Guttural throaty cries of agony that twisted his heart in two.

He looked across to Matsuoka, the other man with his head down into his chest, thick dried blood caking his chin and lips. Beyond him, Tatsuya was staring straight ahead, motionless, the only sign that he was still alive the slow, gentle rise and fall of his chest.

It continued for what seemed like forever, but couldn't have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes. Awful, wracking sobs from the open kitchen door as Nagase grunted and muttered intelligibly. When it finally trailed off, Joshima not even audible anymore, Taichi could only assume the worst, breath hitching in his throat as another batch of fresh tears leaked from his eyes, red and puffy.

His head ached, a dull, pulsing throb on both sides where his ears had been.

Across from them, the small black camera took in their every movement like some cruel joke.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing would come. Nothing could come. They were half-dead already. Shells strapped to chairs to await the inevitable.

Just like they'd sat and faced each other those twenty years ago. Nervous. Scared.

You couldn't ignore an order from your president, right? Not with so much on the line. Not with everything they'd worked for held in the balance.

Nagase hadn't suspected anything.

And Joshima'd been the one to take him.

Matsuoka's shoulders were shaking now, tears dripping down to mix with the blood, sliding across his skin.

He would never speak again.

Tatsuya's mouth was curled downwards, even in his half-conscious sightless state, processing what had happened.

He would never see again.

And Taichi, well, Taichi was pretty sure none of them were even going to make it out alive, but he had to have some hope, didn't he? His hearing came in warped, disjointed chunks, but it wasn't gone completely. The thudding, pulsing of his head was the worst obstacle to his hearing.

He bit down on his tongue, savoring the sharp pain that made the ache in his head dissipate for a moment.

It had grown silent again. Eerie after the sounds from earlier, haunting.

There was a thick, heavy stone stuck in his gut.

When Nagase stormed back into the room, his breath got stuck in his throat and he slammed back in his chair, heart thumping double-time in his chest. Nagase's eyes were wild, pupils tiny and taking in each of them in turn. There was blood dripping down his chin, hair clumped in matted, wet spirals, and his right hand was completely red, nearly to the elbow, stained with blood, so much blood, dribbling to the floor.

Taichi sucked in a sob, shrinking into the back of his chair.

Nagase disregarded them, heading instead towards the camera, taking it in his bloody hand and pointing it right at his face.

"This here's quality TV you know. I hope you're getting all this." He began laughing, an impish little chuckle that morphed into a uncontrollable giggle. He rotated the camera around with his hand, eyes fixed on it. "But who am I to hog the spotlight? Let's see what our contestants have to say, shall we?"

His head swiveled towards them, eyes alight. Then he was clomping over, heavy boots making the floorboards creak and groan.

"Gussan, dear sweet Gussan, could you tell the audience how you're feeling tonight?" Swooping down beside Tatsuya, he swung his arm around his shoulder, the other hand holding the camera up high, facing them.

Tatsuya did nothing.

"Oh, come now, don't be shy. Smile for the camera, why don't ya?" He grabbed the side of his face, finger in his mouth and pulling, yanking on the side, twisting it upwards in a grotesque half-smile. "How about you tell us where you are? How are things looking from your perspective?" He let Tatsuya's mouth go, head heavy and falling back towards his chest as he grit his teeth together. "...oh, that's right. You're having some trouble seeing right now, am I wrong? Kinda like you had trouble seeing other things that were going on right under your nose, huh?"

Nagase was right in his ear, staring at him wild-eyed as the camera shook in his hand.

But then Nagase moved, springing to his feet with a jump before repositioning himself beside Matsuoka.

"How about you, Mabo? Good ole Mabo, always watching out for everyone. Will you be more talkative than your friend over there?" Nagase licked his lips, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. He shoved the camera in Matsuoka's face, Matsuoka closing his eyes and trying to turn away, trying to escape the onslaught.

"Why won't you say something with that pretty voice of yours, Mabo? Or are you too embarrassed?" Nagase took a hold of his head, wrenching it back forward in the crook of his arm. "I've heard of some wonderful new surgical procedures to cure lisps, you know. Other may find them a bit... drastic though." He cracked up at his own joke, shoulders bouncing up and down as he laughed, demented almost.

Letting go of Matsuoka's head with a jerk, he finally moved to Taichi, one hand stroking the top of his head in long, pressured strokes, fingertips grinding into his skull.

"Taichi, you've always been smart." He shoved the camera in his face, rotating it around to get different angles. "Would you say getting fist-fucked to death on a kitchen counter is equivalent to getting sold out by your friends and raped in a hotel room?"

Taichi let out a sob, tears filling his eyes again as he looked away, a hopeless moan escaping his lips.

Nagase just pushed his face closer, free hand grabbing Taichi's chin and forcing it up and down. "I'm sorry, that wasn't one of the acceptable answers. Would you like to rework your response and try again?" He shoved his thumb into Taichi's mouth, practically down his throat and forcing a gag, his stomach convulsing.

Matsuoka looked away as Taichi threw up around Nagase's finger, brown sticky stomach matter dribbling down his chin. Taichi coughed, trying to breathe as Nagase finally pulled his hand away.

"Wrong again! And here I thought you knew everything, Taichi-kun." Nagase took the camera with both his hands, angling in and around Taichi's face like a photographer. "That's it, make a nice face for the camera."

Taichi squeezed his eyes shut, stomach roiling as he tried to block out the vile taste in his mouth.

Nagase finally stepped back, returning the camera to his own face as he giggled in delight. "I know, let's play a game! The people love games!" He jogged over to put the camera back down on the far table, pushing it back and forth with his fingers until it was centered on the three in the chairs. "I'll even play too! We'll call this the 'I'm sorry' game."

Sauntering back over to the sofa, he picked up the gun, pulling the cylinder out and letting the bullets fall, tinny clangs against the floorboards. He bent down, retrieving one of the bullets and sliding it back inside before clicking it together. Across the room, Taichi and Matsuoka stared in horror as he made his way towards them.

Nagase began laughing again, his shoulders shaking and his eyes unfocused, staring somewhere straight ahead of him.

He faced the camera.

"I'll go first!" Raising the gun to his head, he pressed the barrel against his temple. "I'm sorry I sold you out like a dirty, rotten pig, Tomoya." He didn't even bat an eye as he pulled the trigger. There was a metallic click, and then nothing. He chuckled again, eyes swiveling around towards the other three.

Taichi shook his head, brows furrowed and eyes pleading. "Nagase, no, Nagase, stop."

"I wonder who's gonna win? I'm so excited, I'm on the edge of my seat!" Nagase's chuckle turned into a demented laugh. He walked over to Tatsuya.

"Gussan, dear, do you remember the rules?" Nagase bounced the gun up and down in his hand teasingly before aiming it at Tatsuya's head, barrel pressed into the cloth bandage wrapped around his eyes.

"Nagase, please stop!" Taichi was tugging at his restraints.

"What do you say?" Nagase's grin grew even wider, and he bumped the gun against Tatsuya's forehead.

Tatsuya's head was slouched forward, motionless. He didn't even look like he was conscious.

"If you don't answer, I'll have to keep pulling the trigger - you don't want that, do you?" Harder this time, he jabbed the gun into Tatsuya's temple, and this time Tatsuya purposefully turned his head away, teeth clenched together.

"Please, please, please, please, please, please..." Taichi's voice was tiny and cracked.

"Gusssaaaann...!" Another jab, audible, the metal of the gun rammed against Tatsuya's skull.

"...I'm sorry..."

It was soft and hopeless. Dejected.

"I'm sorry..." Tatsuya's shoulders were shaking and he was biting down on his lip, so very, very small.

Nagase pulled the trigger.

Taichi felt his heart get sucked into his gut at the sound of it.

But nothing happened.

"Looks like you don't win--too bad!" Nagase's voice was laced with amusement.

He moved over to Matsuoka.

"Contestant number three--Matsuoka Masahiro! Let's see how he fairs in the face of certain death."

Matsuoka's eyes were wide as he stared up at Nagase, begging.

Nagase pointed the gun at his forehead.

"Nagase, stop..." Taichi's shoulders were already slumped, eyes tiny slits beneath his tears.

"Don't let me down, Mabo!" Nagase jabbed the gun forward, expression demonic.

Matsuoka opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He moaned, a unintelligible jumble of sounds.

Nagase pulled the trigger.

Taichi let out a grating sob, fruitlessly tugging once more at his restraints.

"Sorry, you're gonna have to say that again, Mabo. I couldn't understand you." Nagase kept the gun pointed on Matsuoka's forehead, the other man trembling, shaking, tears leaking down his cheeks.

Matsuoka opened his mouth again.

Nothing.

He tried to form the words, but he couldn't, everything coming out as thick, meaningless groans.

"Nagase!" Taichi's voice was screeching now. "Nagase, stop! Nagase, please!" His shoulders jerked up and down.

"Bzzt! Wrong answer!" Nagase squealed in laughter, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. He pressed his finger to the trigger.

"Nagase!"

A cracked piece of floorboarding came down on Nagase's head.

He went down with a thud.

Taichi blinked in confusion for a moment, then his eyes flew up, vision blurry through his tears.

"...Leader?"

"You fucking bitch!" Nagase's voice came back a throaty growl as he shakily pushed himself back to his feet. There was blood leaking down across his face, eyes gone red with rage.

Joshima regripped the board in his good hand, raising it above his head. He rammed it into Nagase's forehead before the other man even had time to react.

Nagase howled, clutching his face as he jerked back, nearly falling to the floor again. An errant nail sticking out of the board had sunk into the side of his head before ripping across his face, leaving a deep, red line, blood pouring down across his cheeks.

Breathing heavily, Joshima leaned on the board, mouth pulled back in a cringe. His legs were shaking beneath him, barely keeping him aloft. His pants were gone, blood leaking down from between his legs, not even recognizable, a giant red lesion of congealed blood on both frontside and back. His shirt had been sliced up the middle, hanging off his shoulders, pieces of flesh ripped off in messy, jagged contusions across his stomach and chest.

Nagase growled, snorting in rage, fists clenched tight as he pulled himself back to his feet.

Joshima raised the board up like a baseball bat.

Nagase charged.

"I'm gonna kill you, you fu--"

The board sliced through the air, nail carving through his neck.

Joshima nearly fell over from the force as blood spurted out from Nagase's throat.

Everywhere. It was everywhere.

Time stopped.

Nagase's eyes lost their rage, turning white, scared, body awkward and motionless.

His neck had been sliced in half.

Blood poured out from it, skin curling up around the gash, torn trachea visible through the ripped chunks of flesh and muscle. It splashed across Joshima's face in a spattering of dark red, flecked with bits of tissue.

Nagase opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

His body was trembling, one hand reaching up to his throat in disbelief.

Joshima let the floorboard drop with a clatter, eyes fixed downwards, chest heaving. He raised his head up slowly, meeting Nagase's eyes for the last time.

Then Nagase fell. It was graceful almost. A little arc all the way to the ground. Then a thud, a splat, his arms splayed out as he hit, blood squirting up from the impact.

His eyes stared vacantly upwards.

Silent.

Joshima let out a phlegmy cough.

"...L-Leader..."

Taichi's eyes were filled with tears, a hopeful smile of disbelief tugging at the corners of his mouth. Matsuoka was still in a half-state of shock, staring down at Nagase's limp form.

"Leader, you..." Taichi glanced up at down Joshima's body, swallowing hard.

Joshima didn't say anything, lungs taking in air with visible difficulty. He limped over to Tatsuya first, trembling hand reaching out, carding through his hair, Tatsuya himself leaning into the touch, head tilted upwards.

"Shige...?"

Wiping a tear out of his eye, Joshima nodded

Taichi tugged against his restraints, gazing around the room. "Leader, we-... do you think you'd be able to...?"

Joshima turned towards him, nodding again, silent, stumbling towards him before dropping to his knees with a wince. He reached his hands forwards toward Taichi's wrists, tugging at the cords with his fingers.

"Leader..." Taichi pressed his lips together and gazed down at him.

Joshima just kept at it, little bit by little bit, loosening the cords with repeated tugs before his shaking fingers worked out the knot.

Finally achieving the task, he sat back on his heels with a soft smile. Taichi pulled his hands free, rubbing them with a cringe, then returned Joshima's smile.

Only for his eyes to widen in horror.

Joshima didn't even have a chance to react before Nagase's arms were around his neck, squeezing, wrenching him backwards and crushing his wind pipe. He reached his hands out desperately, crying out, unable to make a sound, his eyes going black as he fought to get away, fought to breathe--

\-----

\--screamed, hands clawing the air in front of him as he sat up, drenched in sweat. His eyes were wide open, wild, unseeing as he fought to pull away, grappling with the man behind him. He yanked an arm away--a sheet--fingers clenching the bedding in front of him as he pulled himself along, all the while a horrible, throaty sob wrenching itself from his throat.

The lights came on around him.

Voices. There were voices.

Get away--he yanked away as someone took a hold of him. But then someone else came, he couldn't move his arms, hands tight on his wrists. He felt himself get pushed back, pushed tight into Nagase's arms, his throat constricting as he cried out.

There was a prick in his arm.

Blue.

Blue washed away the red.

Nagase was gone.

He blinked. Sluggishly. He could see. He could look up above him, at the mass of white that was the ceiling.

What was he fighting against?

Body stilling, he took long, slow breaths, air circling in and out from between his lips. Whisp after whisp.

The white ceiling was replaced with a blurry dark blob.

The blob became a face.

"Shigeru, it's alright." There was a hand against his forehead, pushing back his hair. "Did you have another dream?"

He twisted his head back and forth in confusion.

Dr. Ikeda.

That's who it was.

He squinted his eyes, mouthing silent words.

"You're alright now. Everything's fine." He was helped back to a sitting position. There were other people around him. One was dropping a syringe into a plastic bag. One was writing furiously on a clipboard.

Joshima hugged his arms around himself. "...he was gonna kill me."

Dr. Ikeda smiled reassuringly. "No one's going to kill you. You're safe here, just like always, in the Uenai Mental Hospital."

Joshima's arms lowered uneasily, eyes still darting about. Towards the door. Brows furrowed as he remained alert.

"Would you like to take a walk? You've already slept in quite a bit this morning--I'm sure you'll feel better around your friends."

"Friends?" He formed the word carefully, unsure. His lips felt funny and unnatural. Glancing towards the other doctors--or nurses--or whatever they were--as if afraid he would make the wrong choice, they both just nodded and smiled. "...alright."

Dr. Ikeda gently ushered him out, hand to the small of his back.

"What did you dream about, Shigeru?"

They walked through the hall. White. So much white. The ceiling was lined with big skylights, sunlight filtering in, soft and warm.

"I was in a band..."

"Oh, that one again?"

Joshima nodded, head still glancing back and forth, eyes taking everything in.

"Shigeeee..." It came from off to his left as they approached a wide open area--a lounge--a cafeteria? There were tables and chairs situated out across the white floor, wide, open windows lining the wall. A man came towards him, reaching out blindly until Joshima took his arm reassuringly.

"Good morning, Tatsuya." Joshima smiled.

Tatsuya grinned back childishly, eyes invisible beneath the white gauze wrapped around his head.

Dr. Ikeda patted Joshima on the back. "See? Do you think you'll be alright now?"

Joshima nodded silently.

"Just tell one of the nurses if you need something, and I'll be close-by if you get scared or nervous." Dr. Ikeda gave a little nod of his own before walking off.

Tatsuya's hand wound down until it found his, intertwining their fingers. "I heard your voice."

"I'm sorry--were you worried?"

Tatsuya shook his head, still grinning.

"What are the others doing?"

"A game."

Joshima led Tatsuya over towards one of the tables where Taichi and Matsuoka sat, staring intently down at a game of chess.

They didn't look up as the two of them sat down.

"Who's winning?" Joshima's eyes traced over the board, Tatsuya still not having relinquished his hold on his hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

"What?" Taichi didn't look over, but put his hand to his ear.

Joshima leaned closer towards him. "WHO'S WINNING?"

This resulted in a little squeal of giggling from Taichi, hands folded in front of him as he impishly grinned down at the board.

"I am."

"Taichi always wins." Tatsuya shook his head with a pout.

Taichi continued laughing, like a hyena, slamming his chess piece down on a new space on the board, so loud it echoed in the open lounge.

Across from him, Matsuoka shook his head, looking up at Joshima.

"Hm?"

Matsuoka tapped his finger to his wrist, then to the window, then shook his head again.

"You won earlier this morning?" Joshima squeezed Tatsuya's hand when he felt the other man press his head into his shoulder.

Matsuoka nodded vigorously.

"Only 'cuz of a stupid mistake!" Taichi slammed another piece down, voice rising up in pitch so he was nearly yelling.

"Taichi, you don't need to yell." Joshima reached over to pat him on the wrist.

"What?!" Taichi's eyes scrolled across the chessboard. "Hiroshi was talking--I couldn't hear you."

Joshima let it go, not feeling the need to say it again, nor bothering to ask who Hiroshi was. Tatsuya chuckled softly to himself.

They were there for about five minutes, doctors and nurses passing by every once in a while, when Nagase walked in, scratching at his head, half-awake.

Joshima's eyes flew open wide and he backed up in his chair. He began whimpering, breath coming out in short, heavy pants.

The other three looked at him in surprise, Tatsuya starting to whine as well and clutching at the sleeve of Joshima's hospital clothes. Taichi's head swiveled back and forth between Joshima and Nagase, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

As Nagase got closer, Joshima got even worse, clutching at the arms of the chair and kicking back with his feet. When he couldn't take it anymore, he started to scream, crying out in grating sobs and pushing back on his chair until it flipped back with a clang to the floor.

The response was immediate--doctors and nurses appearing within seconds to take a hold of his arms, get him to his feet, shush him and stroke his hair, trying to calm him down.

"He's having another panic attack!"

Nagase had stopped, now just staring at them with a stumped expression on his face. Matsuoka was furiously gesturing with his hands but nobody was paying attention. Taichi had his face down in the chessboard, complaining loudly that they were interrupting the game.

Dr. Ikeda was there.

"Shigeru, shhh, it's ok--no one's going to hurt you."

Joshima gestured towards Nagase, still crying, yanking at the orderlies' arms in an attempt to escape.

"...take him back to his room." It was said beneath Dr. Ikeda's breath, and then the nurses were ushering him along, keeping him under control as they began walking him back towards the hallway.

Tatsuya tried to follow, his arms out in front of him, but he quickly lost them, standing silently by the table. Matsuoka took his hand and pulled him back down into his chair with a soft smile.

In the middle of the room, Dr. Ikeda made his way to Nagase before following Joshima back into his room.

"Tomoya, you didn't do anything to antagonize Shigeru, did you?"

Nagase's eyes were open in confusion and he shook his head . "No clue, Doc. All I did was walk in."

Dr. Ikeda's eyebrows furrowed together and he shook his head, then walked off to help get Joshima calmed down and back in bed.

Nagase stood there a moment, watching.

Dr. Ikeda disappeared inside Joshima's room.

A few nurses walked past him.

Taichi, Matsuoka and Tatsuya sat huddled around their table.

Nagase's face broke into a devilish little grin and he readjusted his grip on the stolen scalpel behind his back.


End file.
